Blackbird: In the Dead of Night
by RayWritesThings
Summary: Oliver Queen returns to Starling City after five years away, three years after Sara Lance was found and rescued by her mother. More troubling to him is Laurel's abrupt and unexplained absence from the city for the same length of time that her sister's been home. Three years into the past, Dinah Lance makes a terrible choice. / Slow Burn Lauriver
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! I know, another new series. The good news is, this first part of the series has been completely written out, so I'm planning to upload the remaining eight chapters each following Friday. This is a story idea I've been working on for a number of months now, and I'm really excited to finally be able to share it with you all. I'm hoping it's an engaging read.**

**This fic is unbeta'd, so I apologize for any mistakes. Those are 100% my own. Any lines you recognize come from either Arrow or from DC Comics and are therefore not mine. I must once again thank the Lauriver discord for providing support and letting me pitch this idea to them; their interest allowed me to finally get this first installment of the series completed after many months. Anyone interested in joining the Lauriver discord server can PM me for an invite link.**

**Let me know your thoughts, and thanks so much for reading!**

**-RayWritesThings**

**Blackbird: In the Dead of Night  
Chapter One**

After five long years away and all the time he had had for regrets and thinking about how he wanted to make amends, Oliver knew exactly where he needed to be when he returned to Starling City. He didn't get the chance to act on that plan until Tommy asked him what he had missed most on their driving tour of the city he could once again call home.

"Laurel."

His best friend barked a laugh and scratched at his ear. "Yeah, uh, problem with that plan. Laurel's not here anymore."

Oliver turned sharply to look at him. "What?"

Tommy shrugged. "She skipped town three years ago. No forwarding address, never answered any calls or emails. Never been back."

"You're sure?"

"Look, she left just before Sara came home. If that wasn't enough to bring her back to Starling—"

"Sara," Oliver echoed dumbly. "Sara's alive?"

"Yeah. I guess you wouldn't have known. She told the Queens she thought you had died, too." Tommy shook his head. "Your mom and Thea took it pretty hard, not that they weren't happy Sara had lived. Made things easier with the Lances, even if it didn't fix their marriage."

"Mr. and Mrs. Lance separated?" With every sentence, Tommy was sending him reeling and struggling to play catch-up. He'd known on some level that the things he had done before and the shipwreck itself would have affected the people around him, but it was still so strange seeing and hearing how much everything had changed.

"Yeah. That was less than a year after the shipwreck. Mrs. Lance moved to Central City, and Sara's with her now."

"What about Detective Lance?"

"Well, not so much a detective anymore," Tommy told him. "He got busted down to officer and then I think he was asked to resign after his drinking got out of hand. That was probably about a year after Laurel left."

And that brought them back around to the main issue. Laurel was gone. In all his years of yearning, recriminations, and vows to make things right no matter how impossible, he had never accounted for a scenario in which Laurel simply wasn't there. It was unthinkable. She wasn't just supposed to be at home...she _was _home.

"Laurel's father got kicked off the force, and she didn't even come in to check on him?"

"I guess she figured he'd be fine. He probably gets alimony, right?" Tommy pushed at his shoulder. "Let's not worry about all of that, okay? You're alive, Sara's alive, and wherever Laurel is she's probably happy to know she can hate you both in peace. So come on, where else did you want to go?"

"Nowhere," Oliver answered blankly. He had absolutely no plan forward now that the one thing he had been determined to do — the one person he had wanted perhaps most to see — was out of reach.

"Sushi it is," Tommy replied with false cheer and turned the engine on.

Their drive to the restaurant was interrupted when they were attacked and kidnapped, however, and Oliver's hand was forced in debuting the man in the green hood much earlier than he had wanted to.

Jumpstarting his mission early caused him to make the decision to recruit his newly appointed bodyguard, John Diggle. Diggle was capable, level-headed, and a good man. He needed allies, as was proven when he had been unable to bring Jason Brodeuer down in enough time to stay the innocent Peter Declan's execution. That one was still weighing heavily on his conscience.

And truthfully, Oliver needed him as a teammate just as much as a confidant.

"Reminiscing?" Digg asked one night as he walked up to Oliver at the computer.

He minimized out of the article he'd pulled up about the _Queen's Gambit_ wreck and his and Sara's supposed deaths. Laurel had been mentioned in it by name. It was the last record of her he was able to find.

She'd been planning to go to law school before he left. But that took three years, and she wasn't on the pass list of any state's bar exam, which eliminated the possibility that she had transferred for her last year. And why would she have done that?

Diggle was still waiting for an answer. "Not exactly. There's someone I knew before the island, someone I thought would still be here when I got back. But she's not."

"The girlfriend you cheated on." Diggle shrugged at his surprised look. "I did my research, too, you know. Thought I should know who I was signing up with."

"Well, the tabloids aren't the best place to start anymore."

"So why are you looking at them?"

Oliver turned his chair around to face Digg. "Tommy told me that Laurel left around two years after the shipwreck and that no one has heard from her since, even when Sara came home."

"And that rubs you the wrong way?"

"It's not like her." Laurel would have come back to see her sister, to yell at her at least. And the idea that she'd just let him return to a comfortable life without making it clear how much he'd hurt her didn't feel right, either. Laurel did not do the silent treatment. She was confrontational always.

"Well, maybe she just wants to get on with her life. Everybody else seems to. Has Sara even contacted you since you came home?"

"No." And that was strange, too. He would have thought she would want to know how he survived, or to talk about their experiences. He still remembered when she had blindsided him on the island with a love confession, and perhaps his discomfort over that had kept him from reaching out.

Oliver turned back to the computer and searched for Sara this time, finding a few articles about her reappearance. A photo of herself and her mother leaving the courthouse sat over an article titled _Mother finds daughter pronounced dead in shipwreck._

Mrs. Lance had been involved? Reading further, the article stated that Sara had washed ashore on an island with little connection to the outside world, but that her mother had been looking in the area and heard word of an American girl matching her daughter's description.

There was nothing about the _Amazo_, Lian Yu, himself or the others, and he could understand that Sara might not have wanted to go into those details, traumatic as they were. He had covered up his own experiences to keep people from tying him to the Hood, after all.

But if parts of the testimony were partial or full lies, that made the entirety of it suspect.

Oliver studied Sara's miserable expression in the photo. Something was off about all this. He needed more information.

"I'm going out," he decided, getting up and crossing to the stairs.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" When he looked back, Digg mimed putting up a hood.

Oliver shook his head. "Not that kind of mission."

—-

Quentin sat at his customary stool, working on his second glass. It was that or stay home and watch news reports about this Hood guy the police were totally inept at catching. It was obvious this nut had to be independently wealthy himself. They should have started looking into who among the elites had some kind of grudge or something to gain from all this upheaval. But his theories wouldn't be welcomed around the station anymore, so he kept them to himself.

His peace and quiet was interrupted as someone took the seat next to him.

"Hello, Mr. Lance."

At the familiar voice, he blinked and set the glass down, then looked to his right at Oliver Queen. "What the hell do you think you're playing at?"

Queen raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Nothing. I had a question for you, that's all. Then I will happily let you get back to your scotch. In fact, consider the next one on me."

Figured he would consider everything good between them, no harm no foul. "If you think I'm glad to see you just cause it turned out Sara wasn't killed out there, you've got another thing coming."

"I won't take up too much of your time, then," Queen replied. "I just was wondering if you had Laurel's new forwarding address."

"Gotta be kidding me." He scoffed. "You think if I knew, I'd tell you?"

"So she really hasn't been in touch."

"No. Guess she got sick of me." Quentin prodded at his drink a couple times. "We got into it, just before she left. Said some things. I didn't mean 'em."

"But you think she thought you did."

"Well why the hell else would she have left? An- and who cares? Couldn't be bothered to call or write, not even a peep when her sister came home. She doesn't care anymore." Quentin gave a single shake of his head and drained his glass. "None of 'em do. Sara comes up every other Christmas. Talks on the phone sometimes. But she's with her mother."

He'd believed when he first heard the news that maybe there was a possibility for the four of them again. The chance to be a family like they'd had before. But Dinah had kept her place in Central; Sara hadn't quite been the same bright, mischievous girl he'd lost; Laurel had never come home. His girls had all left him one by one.

"And Laurel's alone? You know, I did some digging—"

"You think maybe you of all people should leave it alone?"

"—she was going to law school, right? But she hasn't passed a bar exam anywhere in the US. Wherever she went, it wasn't to continue law school."

"Okay, so she dropped it. She never wanted to be a lawyer in the first place. It was the police academy," Quentin mumbled. He'd kept Laurel from being an officer because of how dangerous he knew the job to be, yet look at him now. He hadn't been anywhere near the precinct for a year and a half.

"Did she drop it between semesters or in the middle of one?"

"Look, Queen, what are you trying to say?"

"I'm not sure yet. I just have an odd feeling about it, I guess," the man admitted, his brow furrowed. "It doesn't sit right with me."

"Look, I would've hoped that hearing your sorry ass turned up might have prompted her to come back here and give it a good kick. But she's obviously washed her hands of the whole thing. Probably for the best. One way we're different, she knew when to let things go."

"That's not the Laurel I knew."

"Yeah, well turns out she didn't know you too well, so maybe you didn't know her, huh? Why do you care?" People around them were staring, but all he could feel was anger at the fake-concerned act Queen was pulling. It didn't matter how stricken the billionaire looked at his accusation; it couldn't be genuine. "You never cared about her! You broke her heart, and she was a damn fool to give it to you in the first place!"

"Quentin, I think it's time to pack it in, alright?" Frank came down to their end of the bar and took his empty glass. "Don't worry about your tab, you can get it the next time."

"Great, just great." He slid off his stool and staggered. Queen caught his arm to steady him, but he threw him off. "Tell you what, you find out wherever she went, tell her don't bother coming back. I don't need her. Never did."

He stormed from the bar and back home, breathing heavily by the time he cleared his steps. He just didn't have the energy he used to.

In the morning, he woke up on the couch in his clothes from the night before and his shoes untied but still on his feet. He shuffled to the toilet and relieved himself, staring at his bloodshot eyes and unshaven face.

God, what he'd let himself become over the years. And there was Queen, young and handsome and rich as ever. It boiled his blood.

But perhaps what felt worse was, as he contemplated the bits of their talk he could remember from the night before, he had to admit — the bastard was right.

It _didn't _sit right that Laurel hadn't returned. She loved an argument, always wanted the last word. And she cared. She cared more than most people ever bothered to. Hadn't he always said she was trying to save the world?

Back when he'd first realized she had gone, he was just so angry. Angry that she hadn't bothered to say anything. Angry she didn't want to see Sara after her ordeal, the little he'd ever managed to get from her about it, that was. Angry that she'd left him. Because he did need her. Look where he'd ended up in her absence.

So what did it mean? Something wasn't right. How the hell did he go about figuring out what the something was?

Quentin struggled into a suit and tie for the first time in years, then made his way to Laurel's old apartment building. That was the first place he could think of that might still have some kind of record about her.

He got the number for the landlord on a sign right by the mailboxes. "Yeah, I needed to talk to you about a previous tenant in apartment 305. Dinah Laurel Lance. She was my daughter. It's a bit urgent."

Lucky for him, the landlord agreed to see him just after his lunch. Good service in a good neighborhood.

Quentin found the man's office easy enough and was shown to a seat.

"You had some questions about your daughter's use of the apartment?"

"Yeah, specifically the end of it. Was her lease up? I'm trying to get some family accounts in order," he claimed.

The landlord opened and perused a file on his desk. "No, she still had several months. But she understood she was breaking the lease and told me to account for that with the check."

"She told you?"

"Well, it was in writing. I never actually spoke to her about it. I suppose her mind was made up." He took a piece of lined paper from the file and passed it to him along with a photocopy of the check. "Normally, I'd have asked the tenant to fill out the amount to be withdrawn, but she had already left the apartment and wasn't answering any calls."

Quentin supposed there wasn't much the man could have done, especially with a note stating Laurel's wishes. But right away, he spotted something off.

"This isn't her handwriting."

"It's not?"

He looked up with a frown. "Nope." The signature on the check held up okay, but then it wasn't hard to scribble some cursive.

"Well, I'm not sure what to tell you, Mr. Lance. That note and the check were left in my mailbox one morning, and the bank accepted the check."

"What about her stuff? Was it all cleared out?"

"As far as I remember."

Someone else had written this note and the information on the check. Had someone else cleared out Laurel's things as well? And for what purpose, to make it look like she'd moved?

The bank had accepted the check. The bank could also tell him more about the current state of Laurel's accounts and affairs. Quentin stood up.

"Thank you, you've been a big help."

He didn't think this was a case of fraud on the landlord's part. Either way, he'd learned everything he could here. Yet Quentin was acutely aware how little the bank would be willing to tell him without Laurel actually present. Back when he'd still been on the force, that hadn't been a problem.

He needed the information, but he didn't have enough information to get police involved. Unless...

He swallowed his pride and dialed the number for his old partner.

"Detective Lucas Hilton."

"Hilt, it's me. I need you to meet me at Starling National Bank if you're available. I'm at the branch on Fifth and Gail Street."

"Quentin? What's going on?" He thought he could pick up the rustling of some papers on the other end of the line. "You sound like you're on a case."

"Something like that. But I don't got the badge anymore, so you know. I wouldn't ask, but it's kind of a personal matter. Family."

Hilton gave a heavy sigh. "Alright, think I can make some time. Give me twenty."

"Terrific. I'll be here."

He was pacing by the time Hilt's squad car pulled up, but he made an effort to stop as his friend walked up.

"So, what's this about?"

"Laurel." He watched Hilton's eyebrows raise. "I went over to see her old landlord and asked about her lease. When she left, she had to break it. Only she did so via note, and the note the landlord had wasn't in her handwriting."

"Wasn't that three years ago? What's brought this up now?"

He wasn't about to admit it was Oliver Queen of all people, so he gave an evasive, "Been doing some thinking. I think I missed some signs back then. Between Sara being back and everything…" He trailed off for a moment. "I just need some information about her account to be sure I didn't get it all wrong."

"Alright, let's see what we can get."

They headed inside and up to an unoccupied window in the line of tellers.

"Hi, how can I help you today?"

"I need you to tell me about the account belonging to a Dinah Laurel Lance. It's part of a case," Hilton lied as he flashed his badge.

The teller blinked. "Oh. Well, let's just step into one of our personal offices and have a look."

They both followed the woman and sat across the desk from her as she booted up and typed away at a computer. A frown started to form, which made the bad feeling in the pit of Quentin's stomach grow even worse.

"Her account has been in some trouble for the last few years. There's been no deposits. Most of her funds were garnished. Outstanding loans, credit card bills. There should have been a court order sent to her place of residence in the case of the credit card, but federal student loans don't require one."

"So she hasn't been using it for, what, three years?" Quentin asked.

"Almost exactly."

"And if someone was going to move cities or even out of state, they would have closed the account first, right?" Hilt checked.

"Well, we would have recommended transferring to one of our sister branches, but yes."

"So what does that mean about where she is now?"

The teller blinked at him. "I'm not sure how to answer that. This isn't really something common. It's almost as though the account has been left open while it's in probate."

He gripped the arms of the chair and leaned forward. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh. Probate is—"

"I know what it is."

Hilton touched his shoulder. "Thank you, Miss. That's all the questions we have."

His partner led them back out onto the street and over to the car. Then he blew out a breath. "Okay, Quentin. What are we looking at?"

"Laurel didn't move. I don't know how, I don't know why, but she didn't just leave. Not on her own. Someone forged her note, I'd bet Dinah's next alimony check that that same someone sent an email to withdraw her from law school, and the teller in there thinks she might as well be dead from her account activity." He dragged his hands through his hair, yanking at tangles he rarely bothered to comb. "She's missing, Lucas."

Hilton watched him solemnly.

"She's been missing for- for three years, and I didn't notice." His hand rested over his chest while his heart pounded loud in his ears. "How did I not notice?"

"There's a lot that's been going on in your life the last five years, Quentin. And whoever did this wasn't an amateur. The important thing is that we know now. I'll open a case at the station, but I think you should get home. You look exhausted."

He didn't want to go home, but he knew better than to show his face around the precinct. So he let Hilton drive him home. Quentin undid his tie as he entered the little apartment, and he dropped back down onto the couch.

Laurel was missing. It didn't feel real. After all those years he'd spent resenting her for staying away — and he'd been wrong.

Worst of all, the person who'd pointed it out to him was the person he loathed most in the world. How had Queen known?

More importantly, how was he going to find his daughter?

—-

_Three years ago_

Laurel's eyes were stinging with the tears she wasn't quite able to hold back as she held the close door button on the elevator. She was thankful when the door slid shut before anyone could get on. She didn't feel like being around people at the moment.

Why did he have to be so cruel? They were all each other had, and he—

Well, he probably felt justified blaming her. If she hadn't dated Oliver, maybe he wouldn't have picked Sara to cheat on her with. Maybe Sara wouldn't have agreed and gotten on that boat. And maybe mom wouldn't have left. If she were her dad, Laurel would probably blame herself, too.

It was the alcohol talking more than anything. She knew that. He just kept getting worse, especially now that he'd wrapped up the Mathis case and didn't have work to distract him as much. Laurel wasn't hoping for another serial killer, but there had to be something other than the drinking he could lose himself in.

She'd never been the favorite. Laurel had known that for a long time. She wasn't the one who got souvenirs at the aquarium or pets for her birthday or special edition Rockets baseball caps. But she'd been the one they were proud of, and she'd told herself for years that that was enough.

Ever since the _Queen's Gambit_ had been lost at sea and Sara with it, that hadn't been the case. Her mother had left without a phone number or an address to reach her at. Her father now found fault with every single action she took. If she went out with friends she was irresponsible; if she came to collect him at the bar she was a nag; if she wore a skirt instead of pants she was a slut, and no wonder Queen had gotten to her, used her to get to Sara.

That was the latest recrimination he'd given her tonight.

Laurel looked down at the pencil skirt she was wearing to match her blazer, the outfit she'd chosen for a mock trial showcase at her university he'd promised to come attend. She'd found him in the bar across the street after instead.

Laurel pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead, just barely choking back a sob. She was _not_ going to have runny makeup over this, she was _not._

The elevator dinged as it opened, and Laurel breathed in and out once to collect herself before striding down the hall, the picture of calm and unaffected on the outside.

It was dark in the apartment — too big for one graduate student; she'd rented it with the thought she'd be sharing it with the man she loved, and moving out or getting a roommate would be admitting that sad truth to her and everyone else — and Laurel set her briefcase down before flicking the light switch.

Nothing happened. Laurel tried again, flipping it back and forth a couple times with the same result.

Her lights weren't working. Laurel frowned, torn between heading for the circuit breaker or her gun. It could just be a blown fuse, right?

Her hesitation cost her. Laurel took one step towards her desk and was suddenly seized from behind. Her legs kicked uselessly in the air as she was lifted off her feet, and some kind of dark cloth bag was shoved over her head.

She tried to yell out, but it was muffled. Something sharp pricked her neck before she knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright everyone, I've been really excited by the response so far, so thanks very much for all the feedback. This chapter is a little bit shorter than the first, but I think it and next week's will make clear just what happened to Laurel three years ago. I hope you enjoy!**

**-RayWritesThings**

**Chapter Two**

_Present day_

John could admit that Oliver had some impressive skills when it came to strategy and planning. But sometimes he was just freaky.

"So you set Lance up to open an investigation into his daughter?"

Oliver looked away from the news report he was watching on mute. A picture of Laurel Lance was displayed along with a banner declaring, _Police Open Investigation into Woman's Three-Year Disappearance._ "I knew I wouldn't get very far asking questions myself and that he had the credibility as her father and the connections to do it. Lance may have been kicked off the force for his drinking, but he's got a sharp mind when he uses it. Give him a case, and he's a dog with a bone."

"Yeah, guess you two have that in common."

Oliver made a face but didn't reply.

"He won't be splitting his time between two missions, though. Speaking of, what's next in your grand plan to save the city? You could put some pressure on Simon Stagg. Thanks to him there's a legal aid office that's closing in the Glades."

"Stagg isn't on the list, surprisingly," Oliver said. "And the Hood can't exactly attack him for deciding to cancel his donations."

"So CNRI is just a casualty." John shook his head. He should have figured. It had been hard enough to convince Oliver to take on the Royal Flush Gang the other night, and even that had ended up connecting back to Robert Queen.

And any other plans went out the window when a motorcyclist nearly shot Moira Queen the next afternoon. Oliver had intel that pointed to a connection with the Bertinelli mafia family, and he decided to investigate as himself. John didn't see him until the next day.

"So what happened?"

"It's the daughter, Helena. We were attacked and had to fight our way out. She knows my identity."

"So what happens now?"

"I tried to reason with her. Her methods are too reckless, and if she's not careful she could ignite a gang war. She's coming to the base today."

Oliver tried to train Helena and be a friend to her, but she was too consumed with the need for revenge against her father. When she went to kill Frank Bertinelli at his home, Oliver was forced to drive her off. She couldn't stay in Starling City now that her identity had been exposed anyway.

With the holidays now approaching, John wasn't sure where exactly his friend's focus was. He still went out as the Hood, and he was still working on developing the club. But for once, John didn't have to suggest to his friend to take some time off to be at home, as Oliver was also spending time pushing the idea of a holiday party.

"I don't know, Ollie," he overheard Tommy Merlyn saying as he drove the two to lunch. John was just glad they weren't checking out another club, since the last time that had happened he had found them getting roughed up by the owner's goons out back. "Christmas just hasn't been the same the last five years without you. And now that the news is saying Laurel's missing, it's hard to find the spirit. What do you think happened?"

"I really don't know, Tommy."

"It's scary how people you care about can just disappear like that. You remember when my dad ditched for two years after my mom died?"

"I remember," Oliver replied.

"I heard nothing from him for two years, and then one day he was just back. No explanation, no reason. I guess I always hoped Laurel was gonna do the same at some point." Tommy scoffed at himself. "Probably a dumb hope, right?"

"Hey, I'm hoping she comes back okay, too."

Later on in the base, John had to ask, "So why the party?"

"Because Sara's coming to Starling for the holidays this year," Oliver answered. "There's no chance I could talk to her in Lance's home, but an invitation to a party is the perfect excuse to get her to the manor."

"And you think she'll have something to tell you about her sister."

"The timing is just too close. I mean, Sara was brought back by her mother less than a week after Laurel supposedly left." Oliver shook his head. "At the least, she might have a better understanding of what was going on at the time. I can't imagine that she hasn't wondered."

"Or she could just be grateful her sister's not here to let her have it." He personally couldn't imagine how someone could have done that to their own family, but youth and hormones were a trip. Hopefully, she'd learned her lesson. Oliver clearly had.

The party was given the okay by Moira Queen and Walter Steele, and Oliver himself handled the invitations. Thea sat on her phone as John helped him go through the RSVPs one afternoon.

"Sara Lance, no plus one," he announced, holding one envelope out to Oliver.

Just as he took it, Thea sat up. "You really thought that was a good idea?"

"I've been meaning to talk to Sara," Oliver said. "She's only going to be in town for a little while, so this seemed the best opportunity."

"Unbelievable." Thea stood up and continued over her shoulder, "You know, not that I'm glad it turns out she's missing, but it's probably for the best Laurel isn't here right now."

Oliver winced, but let her go without replying. John returned his focus to sifting through invites.

In the lead up to the party, an unknown imposter started murdering the people on the list who Oliver had already targeted. He had to wonder if maybe they were trying to juggle too much. Without access to any of the copycat's arrows, however, they just had to wait and hope to catch him in the act.

The night of the party arrived, and John made sure to keep near Oliver without crowding him while he greeted the guests. At one point the Queens and Walter all posed for a family picture. So far so good.

But he noticed a few whispers start up around the room at the approach of a woman John only knew from a few online articles.

John wasn't sure what he'd expected the infamous Sara Lance to be like. Smiling and cheerful, more mature, flirtatious even?

The young woman that walked up to Oliver was none of those things. Without ever having known her before, John could say without doubt that she was a shadow of herself. Thin and with a drawn face, she looked out of place amongst all the Christmas cheer.

"Hey, Ollie," she greeted him quietly, so quiet John had to strain to hear even from where he was standing a few feet away.

If Oliver was surprised by how she looked, he hid it well. "Sara. It's good to see you."

"You too. Um, thanks for inviting me."

Oliver shrugged it off. "I heard you were gonna be in town, so I thought we should meet up."

"Yeah. I'm sorry you were lost for longer. If I'd known you survived the _Amazo_—"

"Sara, that's okay," Oliver interrupted her, which was unfortunate since John was really curious as to why she had just mentioned a totally different boat. "Neither of us could've known. I'm just glad we both made it back."

"Yeah."

"And I'm sorry for everything it did to your family. It was stupid and selfish of me, and I never intended for any of that to happen."

Sara's gaze was on the floor as she answered, "Well, we're getting by. Mom's doing pretty good. Dad's, you know."

"Laurel's missing," said Oliver pointedly.

"Yeah, well, that was news to everybody," said Sara, still not lifting her gaze. "She was gone when I got back, you know."

"Yeah, right before you got back. I've been wondering about that."

Sara froze and finally raised her head. "You think I know something. That's why you really invited me here, isn't it?" She huffed a short laugh, but there was a suspiciously wet sheen to her eyes. "I should have figured. You and her, always and forever."

To his credit, Oliver didn't try to make an excuse. "Do you know something?"

Her lip trembled, but she backed away. "I can't do this here."

"Sara," said Oliver. He took a step after her but seemed to notice a few of the looks other guests were giving him. Oliver frowned and stalked off in the other direction, quicker than John could follow him.

He stepped into an unoccupied side room with a television and switched it on to check for any news about their imposter, which got him far more than he'd bargained for. A man in a black hood and mask was declaring himself the copycat on TV and challenging the Hood to a duel while he held nine people hostage. Oliver needed to get on this now.

John found him upstairs kicking a boy out of Thea's room, which had her pretty livid.

"Seriously? You're gonna invite Sara to this party and then lecture me about _my_ life choices?" Thea shoved past her brother, stalked down the hall and out of sight.

Oliver turned, frustration evident, but froze at the look on John's face.

"You gotta see this."

He led him to the television, and Oliver watched with a grim expression. His friend left soon after, and John followed in a van.

By the time he worked his way past the police perimeter, the hostages had been rescued, but Oliver was lying in a heap on the floor of an alley. John loaded him into the van and got to work removing his suit and any other evidence of the true source of his injuries, then rushed to the hospital. This wasn't something that could be cured with a night of rest at the base.

Later, when Oliver was awake and his family had all gone home, he confessed to John his feeling of failure. John didn't know what he could say to comfort him. In both his efforts as the Hood and his investigation into the disappearance of Laurel Lance, Oliver had hit a wall.

Sara couldn't sleep that night. Truthfully, she'd gotten very little sleep since she'd arrived in Starling. Maybe since the announcement.

Laurel was missing, and now it was public knowledge. In equal parts, she had been hoping and dreading this day might come.

"Don't say anything to your father," her mother had cautioned her as she packed. "If he ever knew the truth—"

"I know, mom." She'd been hearing the same refrain for the last three years. But what if he did know? What if she could finally come clean to someone?

When she had gotten into Starling and seen him, she hadn't had the heart. He'd been showing her all the files and bits of information he'd written down spread out all over the coffee table, energized in a way she hadn't known him to be for five years.

"They haven't found anything solid yet, but this is a three year-old trail we're talking about. These things take time. But they'll find something." Her dad had sounded as though he was trying to convince himself as much as anything, and Sara's insides had squirmed with guilt. He didn't know it was hopeless. She couldn't tell him that. So she'd picked at the food he'd made and kept quiet.

She turned over in the bed again. Chances were, he wouldn't even believe what Sara told him. He'd want to see the proof with his own eyes, and he couldn't. It was too dangerous.

But there was someone who could possibly brave that danger. Someone who was just as interested in knowing the truth.

Sara had accepted long ago that she and Oliver weren't actually in love. They'd been a couple of dumb kids, high on the rush of sneaking around and not getting caught. When she'd confessed on the island, she'd been trying to make some sense out of the chaos of their lives. Maybe they had ended up on that island for a reason. Maybe it had been her who survived, and not Shado, for a reason. Maybe it had been her, and not Laurel—

Sara flopped onto her back. Then finally, with a groan, threw the covers off herself and slipped into her shoes and a coat as she left the apartment. She couldn't live like this anymore.

It wasn't too hard for her to sneak into the hospital. She waited until the hall was deserted before approaching Oliver's room and slipping inside.

He was asleep, judging by the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. She approached slowly and tapped his shoulder. "Oliver?"

Sara backed off with a gasp as one of his arms reached out, grasping at air where her neck had been moments ago.

"Oliver, it's me."

"Sara?" He peered at her through the darkness, like he was trying to decide if she was real. "What are you doing here?"

"It's you they've been talking about on the TV, right? You've been going out in Shado's hood."

He grimaced. "What about it?"

"You got beaten tonight by that man. The copycat archer everyone's talking about."

She'd nearly jumped out of her skin when she'd gotten back from the Queen's party and seen that uniform on the news.

"What about it?" He repeated, more tersely this time.

"Could you beat him if you met him again? Because if you can't beat someone of that caliber, Laurel's gonna stay missing."

He sat up sharply and let out a hiss of pain, one hand resting over his ribs. "Sara, what do you know?"

"It wasn't my idea. You gotta believe me about that, Ollie. I didn't want it to happen. I just wanted to go home. After Ivo, after Slade, I- I—" Her eyes were stinging and her voice was already wavering badly. She honestly didn't know if she could make it through talking about this. She'd never tried before. It was a taboo subject even at home with her mother.

"Sara." She could tell he was working to keep his voice calm and even. "Just tell me. What happened to your sister?"

"It was mom," she blurted. "When she found me, there was a choice, and she made it. I tried to tell her it wasn't right, but God, Ollie, I was just so tired and afraid. I didn't want to stay with them, and I let her- I let her—"

Her throat was closing up, refusing to say the words. She kept having to take great gasps of air.

"Just calm down," Oliver urged, his eyes flickering to the door. "Start from the beginning. How did your mom find you, and what happened when she did?"

"You're gonna hate me for this," she said in a low tone. "I've hated myself for three years."

"Whatever's happened, the first step to making it right is to tell the truth," he said. "Please, Sara."

She drew in a breath and began. "The first thing you gotta understand is that my mom knew I went on the boat. She caught me packing and let me go with you, even though you were seeing Laurel." She didn't miss his shocked expression at that admission. If he only knew just how bad it was going to get. "I think she blamed herself after the shipwreck, and that's what drove her to looking for me. She didn't want to believe she'd let me go off to drown with my sister's boyfriend. So she started looking…"


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, everyone, big if short chapter this week. You will see definitively what Dinah Lance did all those years ago. I really hope you enjoy.**

**-RayWritesThings**

**Chapter Three**

_Three years ago _

Dinah hadn't been able to stay in Starling. How could she have, when her grief was one of a far different kind to what the rest of her family was experiencing? The grief of the guilty. Remorse.

It had been impossible to keep looking Quentin in the eye. And Laurel, that had been out of the question. Her eldest had the same quick temper of her father, and Dinah had been convinced if she stayed, she would have confessed, and then Laurel would have shut her out of her life anyway. So she had left on her own terms.

And not just to get away.

While Quentin had thrown himself into his police work, Dinah had gotten to work of a different kind.

She had taken sabbatical and dedicated her time to research of the North China Sea region. Working out of a little apartment in Central City, she had read up on currents, the islands both large and small, and common comings and goings in the area.

She refused to believe Sara was dead, not until she had turned over every rock on this Earth. Because if she was dead, if she had been the one to send her little baby to a watery grave — no, she couldn't think that. Not yet.

Now in her second year of research, she began to travel with multiple language dictionaries and every recent photo of Sara she owned. Everywhere she went, she asked. Left copies of Sara's picture. Left her number, to call in case there was any sign or sighting.

Four months in, she had her first breakthrough.

"There was a girl on the boat that came in for supplies. American blonde. On a big boat."

"What kind of boat? Did it have a name?"

"English. Like the...the shipping company. Or rain forest."

"Amazon? It was called Amazon?"

"Yes, I think so. They were here for food and fresh water. Big boat."

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

She traveled up and down the coastline and out to some of the bigger islands asking for any news of the _Amazon._ Nothing turned up.

Just as Dinah was starting to become discouraged, a report came in of a shipwreck making the waters potentially treacherous. The ship's name was _Amazo._

Dinah traveled to where most of the debris had washed up and into the village beyond. Someone must have survived, whether Sara or someone who could tell her more.

She went door to door, knocking and asking. "Please, I am looking for my daughter. I believe she was in a shipwreck near here. The _Amazo_?"

One woman who had answered her door eyed her warily. "Let me see the photo."

Dinah handed it over eagerly, trying not to worry as the woman's brow creased.

"Yes, I have seen this girl."

Her heart leapt. "Oh, thank you! Where? Did she wash up with the wreckage?"

"I was collecting driftwood when I spotted her along the coast. But—" the woman looked around cautiously and continued in a much lower tone "—the Demon's Heir was with her. She carried her away."

"The Demon's Heir? What is that?"

"Part of the League that controls the mountain range. We provide them food and goods for their protection and amnesty."

"And they have Sara? Where can I find them?"

"You must go into the mountains and seek them out. They will find you there." The woman reached out and caught her sleeve. "But, few who go there ever return. And when they do, they are changed."

"Then I must go," Dinah insisted. "She's my daughter. Thank you for the information."

Dinah climbed into the Himalayas, looking and looking for some sign of life. At night she was forced to find some type of shelter and parcel out the minimal food supplies she had packed on her person. On the third day, she felt she had been walking for miles when a black-clothed figure suddenly jumped from atop a rock into her path, a sword drawn and pointed at her. Dinah gasped, holding up both hands in a gesture of peace. Was she about to be robbed?

"You are a Westerner," said a male voice from behind his mask and hood.

"American, yes."

"Why have you come to Nanda Parbat? You have trespassed on the land of the Demon Head."

Demon Head for a Demon Heir. It looked as though she was in the right place.

"I'm sorry. It's just that I've come looking for my daughter. She was in a shipwreck that washed up near here." She risked placing her hands together in a begging gesture. "Please, if she's here, I have to see her."

"You would request an audience with the Demon Head?"

"I would."

There was a pause as the man considered her. Dinah held his gaze, unwavering. Then his sword lowered.

"You will follow me."

Dinah was led further into the mountains, more and more people beginning to appear as they walked, similarly dressed to her guide. At last they rounded a corner and came upon a fortress cut into the rock. There were more of these masked and hooded figures than she could hope to count, and Dinah swallowed once before squaring her shoulders and following into the earthen caverns.

They were stopped in one corridor by a young woman with dark hair and eyes. She spoke to Dinah's guide in Arabic and eyed Dinah suspiciously for a few moments. Then she turned and left them for some time.

When she returned, it was in English that she spoke.

"My father, Ra's al Ghul, the Demon Head, and leader of the League of Assassins, accepts your request for an audience."

Assassins? Dinah barely held back a gasp of surprise. Why would assassins have taken her daughter?

Dinah entered the chamber beyond the corridor nevertheless. It was a high-ceilinged room with gated off exits. Several of the masked and hooded people stood to each side, and at the front was a dais lined with candles. On the dais stood a man in a robe adorned in a way the others weren't. The young woman stood to his side in front of the dais, and he radiated power and intimidation.

"Welcome to Nanda Parbat. I am Ra's al Ghul, head of the League of Assassins. What is your name?"

"Dinah Lance," she said, willing her voice not to shake so badly. "Please, I was told your daughter found a young girl. I believe she's my Sara."

Ra's al Ghul considered her words. "You have journeyed here to determine if that is true?"

"Yes."

He looked to his daughter. "Nyssa, fetch the girl."

She gave a short bow and left the chamber.

"I assume you have a request should the girl be your daughter."

"Yes," Dinah repeated. "I've been looking for her for two years. There was a boating accident, and we thought we'd lost her. But I couldn't give up. I want to bring her home."

There were two sets of footsteps and a gasp. Then a voice she couldn't possibly mistake. "Mom?"

Her heart swelled as she turned to see her daughter standing there just behind the young woman. "Sara!"

They rushed to each other, and there was no describing the feeling of holding her in her arms. She was real. She was alive.

"Oh, my baby! I knew you were still out there. I knew you had to be."

Sara was clutching at her like she was afraid it would all be ripped away if she didn't hang on tightly enough, and she could feel tears soaking through to her shoulder. "Mom, _mom_."

There was a throat cleared somewhere in the room, and Dinah looked back up to the dais. She quickly wiped at her eyes.

"Thank you for saving my daughter. I don't know how to describe what this means to me. For two years, all I've wanted is to find her and bring her home."

"But your celebration is too soon," Ra's al Ghul replied. "I have allowed you to see your daughter, as I believe that to be a mother's right. However, the League is not a hospital nor a charity, Dinah Lance. I have expended food, supplies, and the skills of my assassins to bring your daughter back from the brink of death."

At the mention again of assassins, she felt Sara tense in her hold, and it was hard not to do the same. "I would be happy to repay you. Name your price." There was no cost too steep to have Sara safe and sound at home.

"There is no currency that could repay your daughter's debt to me. I instructed Nyssa to keep and heal her in the expectation that she would serve me well. The price for your daughter's freedom must equal that. A life for a life."

Dinah exchanged a horrified look with Sara. "You mean, you want her to become an assassin?"

"Her, or another to take her place," he stated. "I do not make this offer often, but your determination has earned a measure of respect."

Sara could not stay here. She would not let her sweet, innocent girl be turned into some killing machine. Dinah swallowed once and moved her daughter behind her. "Then I will stay, if it lets Sara go free."

"Mom, no!"

Almost immediately, Ra's al Ghul's face split into an awful grin as he laughed. "You would have to think me a fool to believe that an equal trade. You are twice her age, if not older, and untrained. It would be a waste inducting you into my League."

"You said a life for a life!" How could he expect her to give someone else over to them?

"To take her place, yes. Someone of her equal. Unless you can provide such a substitute, then she will remain to be inducted into the League."

He nodded to two of the masked figures, who stepped forward and each took one of Sara's arms, starting to pull her away.

"No, please!" Sara cried out.

"She's my daughter! You can't just take her from me!"

"That is up to you. What are you willing to sacrifice, Dinah Lance?" He demanded. Beside him, his daughter kept her eyes on the stone floor. "If the answer is nothing, then leave this place."

What had started like a dream was becoming a nightmare. Her little baby, she couldn't lose her again. Not when it had been all her fault the first time. She would do anything, give anything.

"Wait!" Dinah cried, lunging forward to take hold of Sara's hands. Everything seemed to freeze in that moment.

Sara was her choice. Sara would always be her choice. She saw so much of herself in her; her reckless abandon, her youthful belief in love. Mothers weren't supposed to have a favorite, but hadn't she already proved that just wasn't the case with her?

And with that thought, she turned to face the Demon Head once more. "I- I have another daughter."

"Mom?" Sara's voice betrayed her shock and disbelief, and Dinah couldn't bring herself to look at her.

Ra's al Ghul tilted his head. "You are offering your daughter...for your daughter?"

Dinah swallowed once. "Yes."

"Mom!"

"Her name is Laurel. Dinah Laurel Lance. She's older than Sara by two years, more mature. And my ex-husband had her in self-defense classes from the time she was little. She took them seriously. She knows more about fighting than Sara."

"Mom, no, this is crazy," Sara said.

"No, crazy would be me leaving you here after I have spent the last two years searching for you," Dinah replied sharply. "I let you get on that boat, and that was my mistake. I can't let you go twice, I just can't. But your sister...if she hadn't befriended Oliver, if she hadn't brought him into our lives, none of this would have happened. There would have been no boat," she reasoned. Hadn't Quentin warned Laurel time and again that Oliver was no good? That she shouldn't have been involved with him? Sara had only been acting out. It had been a silly schoolgirl crush, one that wouldn't have developed if she hadn't been around him so much because of her sister.

"But Laurel—"

"Is your older sister and is supposed to protect you. Remember all the times you two used to play, and she'd be a police officer working to keep you safe?" Dinah let go of Sara's hands to place her own on her daughter's shoulders. "Laurel has known her whole life she was responsible for you."

"Then this is your offer?" Ra's al Ghul asked.

Her daughters. It came down to that. They were both her daughters. Sara was her baby and still loved her. She could save her. Laurel, she had had to leave already, and Laurel would never love her again if she knew the truth about the boat. Either way, their family was broken, but if it was Sara back, then _maybe_ she could live with herself. Maybe she could forgive herself the mistake she'd made.

Dinah stared at Sara for a long moment, willing her to understand that this was the only way. Sara's eyes were wide, but she remained silent.

Dinah closed her own eyes and stated a clear, "Yes."

Laurel woke as a black cloth was lifted from her head, and immediately she began to struggle. She remembered coming home to her darkened apartment, feeling hands close over her mouth, kicking out and reaching desperately for the drawer with her gun before darkness had engulfed her.

There were still people holding her arms here, in this new place. She caught impressions of it in panicked, darting looks. Candles, stone walls, a line of people dressed all in black and with covered faces.

"What—"

"Don't hurt her!" A voice she'd given up on hearing ever again shouted. "Laurel, honey, don't struggle."

Laurel turned her head to the side and felt the breath leave her.

"Mom?" Her eyes drifted past the mother she hadn't seen in two years and fixed instead on something even more astonishing. "_Sara_?"

Her sister stood there, flesh and blood, her hair a ragged mess and tears in her eyes. Her voice was a ragged whisper. "I'm sorry."

Sara was alive. She'd survived the _Gambit._ But then—

Laurel looked around at the room of unfamiliar people. "Wh- where's Oliver?"

Sara swallowed once. "He's dead. Everyone else didn't make it."

It felt as though she'd been hit with the news all over again. Oliver was dead. Had been for two years. She already knew that, and yet seeing Sara was bringing all of those emotions and memories rushing to the surface.

"Touching as reunions are, this matter has already taken enough of my time," a man spoke, and Laurel noticed him for the first time. He wore a dark-colored robe that was different from the uniform almost everyone else was in. A younger woman stood at his side in dark red and black. "Dinah Lance, the elder."

Her mother stepped up to the raised dias he was on. Another woman in jewels and heavy makeup emerged to hand the man an intricately designed knife. He took the knife and her mother's hand.

"Hey!" Laurel tried to wrench her arms free, but the men on either side of her held fast while she watched her mother's palm be cut open.

Her mom gasped, but took her hand and pressed it to the scroll of paper the woman presented her. It left behind a red stain.

"Bring the younger," the man at the front of the room commanded.

Laurel dug her heels in as she was dragged forward. "No, no! What is this place? What is happening?"

"It's alright, Laurel, please," her mom begged. "You have to do this. For Sara."

"Sara?" She craned her neck around to look at her sister, whose shame-filled gaze was on the floor.

"Your sister was found by my daughter and brought here. She was to serve me in exchange for her life," the man explained. "But your mother journeyed here to Nanda Parbat and interceded. She has offered you to me in her place."

"She- _what_?"

Her mother looked at her with pleading eyes. "It was the only way. Sara nearly died and was assaulted by the men who first found her, Laurel. She needs to come home."

It took her a few tries to find her voice. "And I'm supposed to stay here with- with these people? You can't just use me like that."

"It is her right as the mother to decide what is to be done," the man proclaimed. "And she has chosen to relinquish her rights over you to me, Ra's al Ghul."

The woman with the knife came forward and took Laurel's arm with a surprisingly strong grip. Before she could react, the woman sliced her palm, causing her to cry out at the sharp pain. Her hand was then forced to press against the scroll beside the mark her mother had made.

"It is done," said Ra's al Ghul. "Let me make myself clear. Should you return to undo the deal we have made, I will take great pleasure in killing first your daughter, and then the rest of your family and home. Should your daughter fail to serve me through any means, even by the purposeful forfeiture of her life, your family and home will be destroyed. Starling City will suffer the wrath of the entire League of Assassins if you attempt to cross me."

"I understand," her mother said, only the slightest tremble in her voice. She turned away without even meeting Laurel's eyes and walked down to where Sara stood. Sara, who was watching with horror-filled eyes.

"Wait," her sister said. "Wait, this isn't right—"

"We're going home, Sara, _quickly._"

Her mother took her sister's arm and began pulling her from the room.

The woman with the knife took a cloth strip and bound it tightly over Laurel's cut, then retreated with a deferential nod to Ra's. He barked an order in some other language, and Laurel felt the men holding her start to drag her away.

"Let me go! This is crazy! Sara! Mom! _Mom!_"

She was taken down a series of twisting passages all identical to each other, and even if her head had been completely clear she would have been hopelessly lost within minutes. Laurel was thrown into a room and hit the stone floor hard. By the time she'd scrambled back to her feet, the door had slammed and locked. She started pounding on the heavy wood anyway.

"No! Let me out of here! You can't do this! Mom! Sara!"

There was no answer.

Laurel turned and spotted a window in the far wall. She raced to it, only to find that it let out on a steep, rocky drop she could never hope to descend alive.

She slid down until her knees hit the floor again and sobbed against the stone windowsill. Her whole body shook with her cries.


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's the next installment! I'm really hoping you guys enjoy this one, because the pace is going to be picking up. We'll also see some of Laurel's first experiences at the League. Thanks so much for your feedback and excitement for this story, and I hope that continues!**

**-RayWritesThings**

**Chapter Four**

_Present day_

Oliver was speechless. What he had just heard...it seemed unthinkable.

Yet the evidence of its truth stood in front of him. Sara was keeping several feet out of reach, and whether that was a conscious decision or not, it was a wise one.

"Your mother traded Laurel to a cult of murderers in the Himalayas," he repeated, for his own benefit as much as hers, "and you just stood there?"

"Whatever you want to say to me about it or call me has already gone through my head, Oliver. I know it was wrong."

"Then why haven't you confessed to the authorities? Your father?" He was barely remembering to check his volume, and it was only his desire to have all the facts that had him doing so.

"Because the League is too powerful for any of them. Once mom made the deal, Ra's promised to kill our whole family and Starling City itself if we went back on it. But that hasn't kept me from feeling guilty, okay?" She gestured to herself. "It's hard enough not to spend the whole day crying. I wish I had died on that boat, if it had stopped all of this from happening."

He pushed a hand through his hair, trying to reign in both his temper and his panic. Laurel was trapped with a powerful army of killers. Forced to become one herself. Was she even still alive? How did he find her?

"You said I needed to be able to best the Dark Archer to have a chance at getting Laurel back. Why?"

"He's with the League. I don't know how, but that's their uniform he was wearing on the news. If you can't beat him, we have no chance."

He stared down at his battered and bruised body and felt more worthless than ever. The duel with the Dark Archer would set him back weeks in physical recovery. And even if he got back to where he'd been, that still wouldn't be enough.

So he had to get even better. There was no other option. No one else knew where to look for Laurel or would be willing to do whatever it took to right this wrong. Oliver could not afford to give up.

This was his fault. If not for his own betrayal, Sara and her mother would never have been in the position to do this to Laurel.

But that they had at all...he couldn't fathom it.

"Where is Nanda Parbat?"

Sara shook her head. "We only get one shot at this if we're lucky, Ollie. I won't tell you until you're ready."

"There's no we, Sara." His hand was clenched in a fist without him even realizing it.

"She's my sister—"

"You let her be traded for your own freedom!"

They both went totally silent the moment after. Footsteps could be heard out in the corridor. Sara hurried to the connected bathroom, leaving the light off and pulling the door mostly closed.

A nurse stuck her head in his room. "Everything alright, Mr. Queen?"

He had to force his voice into a more friendly tone. "Yeah. I just, uh, had a bad dream."

She nodded. "Okay, well if you need anything, don't hesitate to hit the call button."

"Thank you."

She left, and the smile instantly dropped from his face. After a few minutes, Sara crept out of the bathroom.

"I know what I did, Oliver," she hissed. "I also know I haven't been able to eat a full meal or sleep more than a couple hours a night since. What my mother did, it wasn't giving me freedom." What he could make out of her expression in the dark looked haunted. "If Laurel wants to kill me when we get there, I'm fine with that. But I cannot just keep _sitting here._"

Oliver remained silent. He wasn't prepared to promise anything right now.

Sara moved back to the door of his room, peering out the window to check for a clear opening.

"You can't tell my father. If he knows, he'll want to go himself. And they'd kill him."

On that at least, they could agree. He nodded once, and Sara turned and slipped out the door.

Oliver relaxed back against his pillows, but he got no more sleep that night. In the morning, he discharged himself and called a cab to take him home, much to the surprise of his family when he arrived.

He couldn't put on an act for them right now, so he excused himself to his room. Once there, he turned on his computer. Where could he get started? His injuries would need another couple of days before he could start pushing himself to train back up, but was there anything he could find out about the League on his own?

Oliver reached into his wallet and took out Laurel's picture. His thumb smoothed down the folding edges as he laid it out on the desk. No matter how slim a chance, he couldn't give up. Not on her.

Two hours into a fruitless search, Digg knocked on and opened his door.

"Your mother called to say you'd come home. Should have known you wouldn't even take a day." When he said nothing, John frowned and shut the door. "Oliver, what is it?"

He looked up. "Sara visited me after hours. She told me the truth about how her mother found her and brought her home. And it's why Laurel is missing."

He repeated everything Sara had told him, trying to keep his emotions in check as he did so.

"I know I'm partly responsible. Because of the way I treated people before the island, it gave Mrs. Lance the excuse to choose one of her daughters over the other." Oliver shook his head. "I just can't see how someone could make that choice." Even when Ivo had had a gun to Shado and Sara's heads, he hadn't been able to, only acting on instinct to try and stop it when the man had taken aim.

If Dinah Lance were still in Starling, he would be considering a visit to ask her how she'd made that choice. But a trip to Central was out of the question given his current condition, and it would only serve as a distraction to what his goal needed to be: getting Laurel back. If that were even possible.

Were it not, Dinah Lance would be receiving more than a visit.

John had his arms crossed. "Oliver, are you sure any of this actually happened and it wasn't just some dream you had in the middle of the night?"

Oliver gave him a look. "I know it was real, Diggle."

"But a secret group of killers that lives in the mountains and carries out hits with medieval weaponry? How do we know any of this is real?"

"Sara says the Dark Archer is one of them. He was wearing their uniform."

"Then what's he doing here?"

Oliver shrugged. "The man who wrote my father's list hired him to kill me. He didn't succeed, but no one knows that yet. I'm going to use that to my advantage so I can train uninterrupted. I have to be better than I was that night." He frowned as he added, "Sara won't give me the location of the League until I am."

"Oliver, even if the Dark Archer is one of them, going to this Nanda Parbat doesn't seem to be part of your father's mission. Maybe you should be keeping your focus on that."

"I can't now that I know the truth, John. This happened because I took Sara on the _Gambit. _Because I betrayed Laurel first. How can I hope to right my father's wrongs if I refuse to right my own?"

His eyes fell again to Laurel's picture. For five years, the promise he had made himself to reunite with her and make up for his sins had kept him going through torture, through Hell itself. He would fight a thousand leagues to fulfill that promise. It was what she deserved.

John considered all that for a time. "Let me see what I can find out from my contacts about this League. We're gonna need all the information we can get."

That night, they all received news of a different kind; Walter's things had been discovered abandoned in an elevator at Queen Consolidated, and he couldn't be reached. Without any sort of explanation or notice from an outside party, it was hard for him to know how to feel. Oliver had always liked his father's old friend, but he had only just begun to start thinking of him as part of the family. Thea was far more shaken by contrast, and their mother was inconsolable.

"Maybe it's the same people that made Laurel disappear," Thea mused on the couch late one night. Her eyes were fixed on the fireplace, and the flames reflected brightly in her wet eyes. "Maybe they're just coming for each of us one by one."

"I'm sure they're not related, Speedy. And it's gonna be fine." He reached over to guide her to rest on his good shoulder. Things would be fine once he was ready to act on the information he did have. He would make things right again with their home.

Oliver began training as soon as he was able. It was important not just for Laurel's sake, but the city's as well. Crime and exploitation had not stopped just because the Hood was on medical leave. Just over six weeks after his fight with the Dark Archer, a story came out about a former firefighter who had survived a terrible blaze five years ago and decided to exact revenge on the members of his squadron he'd felt had left him for dead. After attacking them one by one, he had exposed himself when going after the Fire Chief and burning the both of them together. Reading about it in the paper the next morning had Oliver wishing he had some advance warning on looming threats in Starling. The list, he could admit thanks to Diggle's prodding, was only a partial indicator of the ails his city was plagued with.

He had trained harder and longer than ever before, even on the island, and he put it to the test going up against Diggle's old army commander and a group of his men who had turned criminal. For a return of the Hood, it was a triumphant one; he cut through the group without a scratch on him.

John was disappointed in his old commanding officer, but Oliver watched him push it aside in the base that night as he walked up to him with a file. "Heard back from my contact at the CIA. She says the League has been something on their radar for a while now, but they don't have much. The name Ra's al Ghul checks out, though. And she said thanks for the tip about the uniforms."

Oliver nodded once.

"But they don't have the location for this Nanda Parbat, Oliver."

He drew in a breath. "Then it's time to call Sara. Time for her to make good."

He was ready. He had to be.

_Three years ago_

Laurel didn't remember drifting off into exhaustion. The next thing she knew, there was a loud knocking on the door and she sat up, rubbing at the soreness in her freezing limbs from having spent however many hours on the floor. She stood just as the door was unlocked and pushed open.

A masked and hooded woman came in and thrust a bundle of black cloth in her direction. It was the same as she and all the others were wearing.

"You will change and be brought before Ra's."

"What if I don't want to see him?"

"Disobedience is not tolerated in the League. You will serve the will of the Demon Head or die."

And if she died, so did Starling City. Laurel accepted the bundle numbly and was left alone. She struggled into the clothes, trying to figure out where the various fastenings came together, and she couldn't find the face covering. Her guide returned, and Laurel had to hope she was presentable enough as she was led back through the labyrinth of tunnels to the main chamber.

Ra's stood on the dais, and when Laurel was brought forward, her guide pushed on her shoulders until she was forced to kneel. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to avoid snapping at the other woman not to touch her.

"Dinah Laurel Lance. You carry the name of a mother who abandoned you. That mother matters to you no longer. From this day forward, your allegiance is to the League and to me, Ra's al Ghul."

There was a pause, and she wondered if she was expected to say anything. But he continued on eventually.

"I do not desire your blind trust in my rule. That is why each new member of the League of Assassins is brought to witness a demonstration of my power." He nodded to the side, and four League members came forward carrying a large cinder block between them.

Their leader got into position as if to do push-ups, and the cinder blocks were laid one by one on his back. His arms and legs remained locked in place, not even shaking under the added strain.

"Two more."

These blocks were placed near his feet and his hands. Laurel watched as he lifted a foot as well as his opposite hand off the ground, remaining in perfect balance. The blocks were slid underneath. Then Ra's drew in a breath before bringing his foot and hand down onto each of them, cracking the blocks in two.

The League members cleared away the debris as Ra's leveraged himself back up and paced away from the mess he'd caused. Laurel had to wonder if he was walking some pain off, and returned to biting her cheek to hold in a laugh. She was delirious or insane. That man had split a block of cinder with his own _toes_ and she'd thought of laughing?

"Every member of the League is reborn when they join. Part of that process is in receiving a new name. I planned to call your sister _Taer Al Sahfer._ Yellow bird in your native tongue," he said as he paced before her.

"But you require a different name. Cast out, abandoned by your own blood. Serving me in the place of another. A cheerless bird in a gilded cage." He stopped and pronounced, "_Taer Al Aswad._ The black bird."

Laurel didn't even know if she could say that without hearing it another twenty times first.

"You will begin your training. Nyssa will lead your instruction."

They were starting already?

Nyssa stepped forward. "Father, _Al Owal_ is—"

"_Al Owal_ is not the one who brought an outsider to Nanda Parbat for healing. You made the girl your responsibility, and her replacement shall be yours as well. Do not question my decisions."

Nyssa lowered her head. "If it is your will, Ra's, I will see it done."

Laurel rose when Ra's indicated she should do so, and Nyssa left the chamber at a quick march she was forced to follow if she didn't wish to get lost in the cavernous fortress.

They entered a room with an open floor and a rack of weapons lining either side wall.

"Select a weapon." Nyssa gestured to one of the racks. "You will learn to master all of them, but to begin we must see where your proficiencies lie. And your deficiencies."

Laurel looked down the row of swords, knives, bows and arrows, until she spotted a staff. That one seemed the least lethal, so she picked it up.

"Okay, so what now — hey!" Laurel had barely turned around when Nyssa struck her arm with her own staff, and she didn't stop there. She backed away and was pursued by the other woman until she found herself up against a wall. Laurel only just managed to get her staff up between them to block a swing aimed for her head.

"What the hell?"

"There is no waiting to begin," her teacher stated. She barely seemed out of breath. This was going to suck.

Laurel found it hard to sleep that night from the red welts that covered her arms, legs, and torso. The pain was what finally convinced her; this was real. She was really expected to join these people and carry out whatever Ra's al Ghul asked of her.

This wasn't going to be some easy training course. If she wanted to avoid additional pain, she was going to have to work fast.

Even with her newfound motivation, Laurel did not escape her training unharmed. Every day seemed to bring with it new cuts, scrapes, and bruises. Her teachers were relentless, as she learned to battle with first Nyssa and then multiple assailants. When she suffered a broken wrist at the hands of _Al Owal_, she was expected to keep fighting until she had disarmed him. Only then was she allowed to have it wrapped.

She was given lessons in stealth, languages, and poisoning among other skills. It made cramming for law school seem like a breeze, but Laurel was eager to avoid any punishment for slacking and so she learned them all.

One evening, hours into a session of sparring with knives, Laurel finally managed to disarm Nyssa. She kept her weapons trained on the other woman, breathing hard but refusing to drop her guard. She knew her teacher would only use that for an opening.

Nyssa smirked, one of the first times she had shown anything like approval. "Good. I will tell my father you are ready."

"Ready for what?"

"The final test."

The next morning, Laurel was woken early and brought to the main chamber. Other members of the League stood around the edges of the room, and a man was waiting in the center.

"_Taer al Aswad. Alriyh._ You have both completed your training," Ra's stated as he stood between them. "Now you must prove yourselves to me. Only one of you will leave this room alive to join my service, once you have bested the other in mortal combat."

She looked sharply to Nyssa, but the other woman only stared back solemnly.

"You will each choose a weapon and begin."

Ra's walked back to the dais. Laurel's heart was racing as she went to the rack. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched _Alriyh_ grab a sword.

She didn't want to kill him. She didn't even know the man, but that didn't make the idea of taking his life any easier. But if she let herself be killed, would that count as her breaking the deal with Ra's? What would happen to her city?

_Alriyh_ turned and swung at her before her hand had fully closed on the handle of her own sword. Laurel was immediately forced on the defensive, the clash of their swords loud in her ears. A nick to the back of her right thigh produced a growl in the back of her throat, and she started to push back against his advances.

His attacks were swift and done in quick succession of each other, giving credence to his name — _The Wind_ — but his swings tended to go wide whenever she dodged him instead of blocking and he was forced to follow all the way through. Laurel recalled a session with Nyssa when her teacher had instructed her to only dodge and refrain from blocking, and Laurel put it to use in the moment.

She ducked under his arm and sliced at his left side. _Alriyh_ staggered with an agonized yell, but when she hesitated he renewed his attack. His eyes were wild and crazed, and Laurel knew without doubt he would kill her given the first chance—

There was an opening again, and she saw it. In the next instant, she'd taken it, her blade sliding true through the underside of his rib-cage. _Alriyh _cried out but fell silent as he hit the floor. Laurel stood over him, breathing heavily and unable to take her eyes off the body.

There was no cheering or clapping, and for that she was grateful. She wouldn't have been able to stomach that sort of response.

Ra's stepped off the dais and walked down to her.

"Well done, _Taer al Aswad._ I am satisfied to know I was delivered a fine assassin."

Like any time she was reminded of her mother and the bargain she had made to leave Laurel here in Sara's place, Laurel felt her blood run cold. To this day, she could not think of the woman without hearing her own screams in her ears.

"It is time for you to begin carrying out the League's mission for the world. We are assassins, not out of enjoyment of the kill but to prevent more killing and destruction. Those we target are truly evil, and would throw our world into chaos. By removing them, we bring humanity all the closer to peace."

Laurel stared straight ahead. She could not meet his eyes, because she knew if she did Ra's would see just how little she actually believed his words.

"You will leave in three days' time. Nyssa will accompany you." He dismissed her, and Laurel spent the night in her room pacing and thinking about what she would soon have to do.

The League member could be considered an act of self-defense, but to plan and commit an assassination of someone who posed no threat to her? Her stomach churned at the thought.

_Present day_

Things had been feeling pretty bleak the last few months, ever since the news about Laurel having actually been missing had broken. Now with Walter gone, Tommy was starting to wonder if this city had a one-in, one-out policy.

He felt tremendously guilty he hadn't realized the truth about Laurel's disappearance. In hindsight, it seemed so obvious. She would have never just up and left the city or her father like that. Maybe he'd just been too busy chasing false leads to Hong Kong for Oliver to notice what had happened right under his nose. The morbid side to him couldn't help thinking it was far too late now. It wasn't fair. He'd spent the last five years mourning his one best friend, and now that Oliver was back Tommy was mourning the other.

On top of that, everything with Walter was throwing the Queens back into their own period of grief. He decided to stop by the manor one afternoon to check on them and was let in by Raisa. Thea was coming down the main stairs.

"You picked a great time."

"Oh?"

"Ollie and mom are getting into things again. We only just got her to start leaving the house, and now he's upsetting her." She grabbed her coat from the front closet. "So, I'm going out with friends."

"Which friends?"

"Nice try."

She slipped out the door, and Tommy stood in the front hall, torn between going after her or investigating the argument that had caused her exit. In the end, he knew Thea would rebuff his company at the moment, so he headed further into the house.

He found Oliver and Mrs. Queen in the sitting room. Mr. Diggle was standing against the wall and watching the two as they argued.

"I just don't like the idea of you going away, and at a time like this."

"I wouldn't be going away, mom. Just a few days."

"Well, I've heard that before, and we all know how that turned out."

"Digg would be with me, and planes are supposed to be safer than yachts anyway."

Tommy chose to make his presence known at that point. "Who's taking a plane?"

Mrs. Queen looked up. "No one, if I have anything to say about it." She sighed as she rose from the couch and walked up to him. "See if you can't put some sense into my son's head, would you, Tommy? Apparently my feelings on the matter hold little sway."

She continued out of the room and up the stairs. Tommy watched her go, then turned back to his friend. "What was that about?"

Oliver had stood as well and came to join him. "I asked if I could borrow one of the private planes for a few days."

"Well, you gotta admit your mom has some reason to be worried about you heading out so soon."

Oliver grimaced. "I know. I wouldn't ask if I didn't have to, but—"

"But what? Why the trip?"

His friend frowned and looked away towards Mr. Diggle. "I just need some time away. After Walter disappearing and my accident, it's all a little much."

Tommy paused. He hadn't thought much about how Oliver might be processing everything that had gone on since he'd come home. He'd been on that island by himself for five years; all of them and their problems might be a little overwhelming.

"You really need to do this?"

"Yes." Oliver's gaze had almost too much weight to it for this kind of question. Maybe he really did need to get away.

"Okay." Tommy clapped a hand onto his shoulder. "Then let's not worry your mom about it. We'll take one of my dad's planes."

"You would do that?"

"Well, I'll try. There's every chance he says no. This is my dad we're talking about."

He drove them back into the city and breezed past the front desk at Merlyn Global. Fortunately, his father was in his office when they arrived, and he looked up at their approach with something that didn't look like annoyance for once.

"Tommy, Oliver. This is a surprise."

"Hey, dad. Kind of a long shot, but do you think we could borrow a plane? Just Ollie, me, and his bodyguard. No girls, no crazy mid-air parties, I promise."

His father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tommy, despite what you might think, Merlyn Global does not have unlimited resources. I really can't afford to just let you fly off to who knows where anytime you feel like it."

"It was my idea, Mr. Merlyn," Oliver said, stepping forward. "With everything that's been happening, I guess I'm still just a little used to being alone. I kind of hoped that taking a trip would help me clear my head."

"Yeah, commune with nature," Tommy added. Oliver cut him a look, and he stared back unapologetically. He was going out on a limb here, and he was perfectly entitled to poke a little fun while he did so.

"And where would you two be going?"

It occurred to Tommy that he'd totally forgotten to ask just as Oliver opened his mouth. "The Himalayas. I thought we might get some hiking in."

The Himalayas. He'd signed up for hiking the Himalayas. Was he crazy? No, better question, was Oliver?

His father paused, and for once Tommy prayed that he would rain on the parade. "The Himalayas." He studied Oliver for a few uncomfortable moments. "Yes, they're a good place to go for anyone looking to...find themselves. Or so I've heard," his father added, circling back around his desk to the phone. "I'll schedule a plane. Though I wonder how you'll get Tommy up the mountain. You might have to carry him down."

"That's very funny, dad."

"I'm sure we'll make it work," Oliver replied. "Thank you, Mr. Merlyn."

"Of course. Anything I can do to help your family at this time."

Tommy waited until they'd gotten into the elevator and the doors had shut to make his thoughts known. "The Himalayas? Seriously, Ollie?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"Oh, I don't know. It's a mountain range, there's definitely no cell service, it's _February._"

Oliver glanced at him. "You don't have to come."

"I think I do. It's kind of my family's plane," he reminded him. "And you're my best friend. So I guess we're doing this."

"Thank you, Tommy." When he looked over, Oliver was smiling at him. "I promise, it'll be worth it."

"Sure it will."

They were scheduled to leave at the end of the week, so Tommy got packing. He didn't know what all Oliver had planned, but he dug out the closest thing to hiking boots he could find and hoped for the best.

The morning of the trip, Oliver swung by with Mr. Diggle to drive out to the airport. His friend seemed oddly quiet for someone about to head out on vacation, and his mood only seemed to worsen as they pulled in to find somebody already waiting at the tarmac.

"Is that…?"

"Wait here," Oliver said as he undid his seatbelt. "I'll talk to her."

He got out of the car and walked over to Sara Lance where she stood with a rucksack slung over one shoulder. Tommy leaned forward to poke his head up front.

"How did she know we were gonna be here?"

"That's not really my place to say, Mr. Merlyn," Mr. Diggle answered.

As he watched the two, it seemed whatever conversation they were having was growing heated. Tommy got out of the car.

"I told you to just send me directions."

"And I told _you_ you're never gonna find this place on your own. Face it, Oliver, you need me."

"Sara!" Tommy called. "Hi. Thought we told dad no girls," he added in a mutter to Oliver as he drew up to his side.

"I just told the pilot to keep it on the quiet," Sara said. "He seemed to find that pretty believable."

Tommy chuckled, then stopped when no one else joined in. "Okay, seriously if this is an alone time trip for you two, I don't need to be here." He couldn't help feeling disappointment in Oliver at the thought. What had all of that talk about wanting to see Laurel right when he got back been about?

But Oliver shook his head firmly. "It's not."

"Yeah, pretty sure Ollie wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole these days. So don't worry."

"Okay," he replied, dragging it out as he looked from one to the other. "So is she coming or no?"

Sara put a hand on her hip and stared them down.

"I guess she has to," Oliver eventually grumbled. "She's the only one that knows the...trail."

Tommy was starting to get a feeling that something was up. He wasn't sure what, but there had to be some reason for Oliver's insistence on going to one specific mountain trail, not to mention his and Sara's frostiness towards each other. Mr. Diggle joined them at that moment, however, so Tommy elected not to say anything. He didn't want to get Oliver in any more trouble with his mother than he already would be after this trip.

They all loaded onto the plane and took their seats, Tommy next to the window and beside Oliver with Mr. Diggle sat across. Sara sat in her own row, her shoulders hunched. They were given the usual safety spiel by the pilot and then it was takeoff.

"So, this flight is, what, thirteen? Fifteen hours?" He checked. "What do we all want to do in the meantime?"

Sara and Mr. Diggle were both silent.

"Get some rest," said Oliver.

"Okay, but it is morning, Ollie. You remember that, right?"

"I know it is, but the time differential usually leads to jet lag, which I want to avoid," his friend explained. "I pulled an all-nighter last night. I'll sleep on the plane, and then I'm ready to go when we land."

"Oh."

Oliver settled back in his seat and closed his eyes. Tommy sighed. This was going to be a long flight.

He hoped this trip was actually worth all the trouble.


	5. Chapter 5

**Alright, everyone! Here's the setup to the showdown you've been waiting for. I'm hoping people are surprised by some of the additional twists I've thrown in, and I can't wait to hear your responses. Thanks for reading!**

**-RayWritesThings**

**Chapter Five**

_Three years ago_

They arrived in Seoul, wearing regular clothes for the first time in months. Laurel didn't get too excited about it, though; when Nyssa had given them to her to change, she had informed her they were part of the League's general supplies and would be taken back when they returned to Nanda Parbat. Once they had set up in a hotel, Laurel was given the name, photo, and address of her target.

"You're not coming with me?"

"This is your assignment. I am here to ensure your arrival and extraction, nothing more."

Laurel changed into her uniform and left the hotel alone that night, sneaking to her target's home in the Yongsan district. She kept her breathing even and her hands from shaking as she snuck past armed security up to the fifth floor, where a light remained on in an office. She picked the lock on the window and pushed it in, stepping through just as her target turned around.

He gave a gasp and dropped the phone in his hand. Laurel crushed it with the blunt end of her staff, and moved forward until he had backed into the wall. His hands were thrown up over his head, and the little she could understand of his speech was obviously begging for his life.

There was a knife in her belt. She was meant to take it out and finish the job. But she couldn't. How could she? This wasn't peace, this was murder.

"Go. Take whatever you can carry and leave this city. Don't tell anyone."

The man's eyes went wide, and his lips moved as if to speak.

Laurel stepped forward and put as much menace in her voice as she could muster. "_Go._"

He reached towards his desk, eyes on hers through the thin slit in her face covering. It was a briefcase he grabbed and hugged to his chest before inching along the wall to the door. With one last terrified look at her, he fled.

Laurel left out a breath and sagged in relief. The next instant she was hurrying to the window. It would be disaster for her to be caught here, especially after what she had just done. When she returned to the hotel, she didn't say a word to Nyssa and merely climbed into her own bed.

This worked for her next three assignments, or so she thought. Laurel woke one night in their temporary lodging to moonlight streaming through the window as Nyssa re-entered the room. She shed her coat and quiver of arrows as Laurel sat up.

"Where were you?"

"Dispatching our assignment," Nyssa answered in a clipped tone. "As I have done for the last three assignments. Did you really believe I was not watching, _Taer al Aswad_?"

The color drained from her face, and Laurel scrambled out of bed. "They're all dead?"

"Of course they are. That is our mission, and if it was known that we had begun issuing pardons, the reputation of the League would be at stake and the whole world order would destabilize. My father would be furious." She sent Laurel a cutting look. "You are letting your own sense of self blind you to your obligation to the League."

She crossed her arms. "So why haven't you reported me to your father?"

"Because I know the terms of your servitude as well as you. The destruction of an entire city for your disobedience seems unconscionable to me, and I would think you would feel the same."

Laurel looked away. She knew what was at stake, but it just wasn't fair. Why was she forced to compromise her morals, her very self, just to keep others alive? Others who would never know or care what she had prevented. If it was just her own survival at stake, there was no question that this nightmare would already be over, one way or another. She wished the thought horrified her more than it did.

"You did not join us of your own volition, and I question my father's decision to bond someone whose loyalties will never lie with the League," Nyssa continued. "But I have also known what it is to be an unfavored child."

Laurel turned back to Nyssa in surprise. She had never considered what her teacher's childhood must have been like, growing up surrounded by this cult. Whether she'd had siblings or a parent who cared for her. It was obvious Ra's was dismissive at best.

"I'm sorry."

Nyssa stiffened. "I did not tell you that for pity."

"No." Laurel took a step closer. "My failure on the assignments would mean your failure, right? I was ignoring what could happen to my city, but I also didn't think about how my actions might affect you."

Nyssa stared at her for a long moment. Then she glanced away. "You will have to do better on our next assignment."

"I know." Dread seeped into the pit of her stomach and she sat on the edge of her mattress. She would have to take a life, and not for her own protection.

"I was going to be a lawyer," she said, and Nyssa looked over at her. "Yeah, I was entering my last year. My dad is a cop, too. He always used to say that no one needed to go outside the law to get justice." A wry smile twisted her lips. "If he could see me now."

"Laws are not a universal concept, nor are they absolute," Nyssa remarked.

"Maybe not. Maybe it doesn't matter. These people I'm assigned are going to die either way, aren't they?" Laurel looked down at her hands lying in her lap. "But if I don't do it, a lot more people are going to die. I wish I knew what the justice in that was."

She turned away and climbed back into bed before Nyssa could answer.

In the morning, she still felt shame at having been caught, and also for making her and her city Nyssa's responsibility. Laurel had undergone the League's training in the belief that it was worth sparing all the innocent people back home; it was inevitable that she would have to carry through on that belief, and that wasn't any more Nyssa's fault than it was her fault she'd been forced into this situation. She rose early and took their rations to make breakfast. Since there was no actual cooking involved, she felt fairly confident she could manage it.

Nyssa rose just as she'd finished, and she walked over to the other's bedside to hand it to her.

"Good morning."

"You seem in an oddly better mood than I expected," Nyssa remarked.

"I don't know about better. Resigned, maybe," Laurel admitted. "I wanted to thank you for covering for me. When I was first brought to the League, I thought you hated me. I guess I wish I'd realized I had a friend sooner."

Nyssa stared at her food, and Laurel had a feeling the other woman didn't know what to say.

They finished up, and she hefted her supply pack onto her shoulder. "Come on. Let's go back."

_Present day_

Oliver felt himself shaken awake, and he clamped a hand down on the other person's.

"Ollie, there's someone in the bathroom," Sara whispered.

He sat up. "What?"

"The door's locked from the inside, and I can hear breathing in there."

John was waking up across from him while Tommy snoozed on with his face against the window. Oliver exchanged a look with Digg and they both stood, heading to the back of the plane.

The door was locked as Sara had said, so he looked to John and nodded. His friend kicked the door in as Oliver prepared a stance.

"Ahhh!"

He froze. "_Thea_?"

His little sister scrambled up from where she'd squeezed herself in between the sink and the wall. "You couldn't try just knocking first?"

Oliver gaped at her for a moment, then regained enough sense to demand, "What are you doing here?"

She shrugged. "I wasn't sticking behind with mom this time. I've been through that before."

"So you snuck onto a private plane?" Sara asked.

"Yeah. Stayed over at a friend's last night and they gave me a lift to the tarmac first thing in the morning. So, where are we going?"

"You're not going anywhere," Oliver stated. "You are staying on this plane until we land back in Starling City."

"Oh, so it's fine for _you _to leave mom while she's grieving and go have fun, but if _I_ do it—"

"This is not for fun!"

"What's going on?" Tommy had woken up, it seemed, and he walked over, stopping short at the sight of Oliver's sister. "Uhh, that's Thea."

"Hey, Tommy."

"...how'd she get here?"

"She snuck on before we boarded," Sara said.

"Yeah, so where are we going? And what about it isn't fun?"

Oliver could not believe this was happening. He'd accepted that he needed Tommy for the plane and Sara for directions, but Thea? He couldn't explain the real purpose of this trip without revealing his identity as the Hood, but he needed to be able to get to Nanda Parbat. Oliver looked to Digg and Sara both for some kind of answer.

It was Tommy who did, however. "Well, Ollie's making us hike mountains, so I'd say that qualifies as 'not fun'."

"Hiking?" Thea turned to him. "Since when did you hike?"

"The island," he deadpanned. His sister had the grace to look sheepish.

"Look, why doesn't everybody who doesn't want to hike just stay down in one of the villages at the base of the mountain?" John suggested, and Oliver found himself in awe of that stroke of genius. "We'll pick a meeting point and a time to be there, then head back to the plane."

"That sounds perfect," Oliver said. "Tommy, Thea, I'm gonna send Digg with you since you'll be in the village."

"Right, while you and Sara go on a hike together," Thea continued for him with a roll of her eyes. She left the bathroom and brushed past him, going to sulk in one of the chairs.

"I'll try talking with her," Tommy muttered, and headed down the aisle after her.

Oliver took a deep breath in and out. The plan could still work. And truthfully, maybe having some familiar faces on the plane to greet Laurel wouldn't be such a bad thing. If that was what she wanted. It was hard to know what to expect.

They touched down and everyone was happy to climb off the plane and breathe in the open air. Oliver and Sara went with the others as far as the village, then split off and headed up a dirt path into the hills at the foot of the mountain.

"After a certain point, the League starts stationing a guard. I'll have to leave you there, because if they see me, they'll consider that our family breaking the deal."

"Right."

"Ra's is the leader, and he's the one you need to release Laurel, but there's also his daughter. Nyssa. She was the one that found me and saved my life. You could probably get her on your side."

"Nyssa," he repeated just to be sure. Sara nodded.

They fell silent as they climbed further. There was no real point to expending breath on talking. Especially when he didn't know what to say.

On the one hand, he sympathized. She had experienced more horrors under Ivo's capture than he could imagine. It would be hard to turn down any opportunity to put more suffering to an end. But on the other hand, it had been wrong. Neither of the Lance sisters deserved this situation, but to knowingly allow her mother to trade away Laurel's freedom was inexcusable. Dinah should have left Nanda Parbat and sought help, not made a rash decision on the spot, one that had ruined both her daughters. He could see the toll the hike was taking on Sara; she hadn't been taking care of herself the last three years, and she was tiring. But she pushed on.

With no warning, she reached out to grab his arm and tug him to a stop. "Once you round that boulder, they'll be able to see you and hopefully they'll come to talk."

"If not?"

Sara grimaced. "They are assassins."

"Right."

"I'll wait here." She held on tighter when he started to walk away. "Ollie. Bring her back."

"I will."

He walked on alone, keeping his eyes peeled for any sudden movement. He noticed the guard the second before he emerged from hiding, landing in Oliver's path and holding him at sword point. Even knowing it had been coming, it was hard not to flinch at the sight of the Dark Archer's uniform; that defeat still sat heavy with him, and it fueled his desire to do better this time.

"You have trespassed on the land of the Demon Head."

He had no weapons save the knife tucked into his boot, as Sara had said that would maximize his chances of not being killed on sight, so Oliver held up his hands. "I know."

Behind his mask, the guard's eyes narrowed. "Why have you come?"

"My name is Oliver Queen, and I seek an audience with Ra's al Ghul."

Thea walked along the village's main road with Tommy at her side and Mr. Diggle trailing only a few paces behind them. Every so often, she glanced back, but there was no sign of Oliver or Sara. She frowned to herself. What was even going on there? She'd hoped when Oliver came back that he'd have learned from past mistakes.

The thing was, Thea had always liked Laurel. She was everything Thea had ever imagined a big sister could be. When the news had come out about the _Gambit_, Thea had been devastated not only to lose her brother and father, but to learn that her brother hadn't been just a harmless troublemaker. He'd caused real hurt to people in their lives. Instead of being able to grieve together, Thea had been convinced Laurel would never want anything to do with their family ever again.

Yet Laurel had proved her wrong. Though she'd stopped coming by the house like she had been, whenever Thea happened to run into her out in the city, Laurel always had a kind word. She'd even used to send her a birthday text, the first two years after, anyway.

And then one day Laurel had just vanished. Thea didn't know exactly when. Only that, when the news had reported Sara found alive, Laurel hadn't been there. Sara had come to apologize to them at the house for not being able to tell them anything good about Oliver or her dad, and Thea, impetuous and nearly fifteen, had asked her if she'd apologized to her sister yet.

Sara had flinched. "Laurel's not here anymore. And she wouldn't want to see me right now, anyway."

Sara had moved away with her mother after that, and Thea hadn't missed her. It had been Oliver's fault bringing her on the yacht in the first place, but why did the Lances get to have their prodigal daughter back while she and her mother had nothing?

Of course, Ollie had eventually come home. He'd been distant and sometimes explosive with his temper, nothing like what Thea remembered of the brother she'd lost. He wouldn't open up to anyone, and wistfully she had had the thought that if he might to anybody...but there had been no point. Laurel had still remained away.

Then they had learned that wasn't necessarily of her own choice. Thea had been at a loss. She'd been so consumed by the tragedy that had hit their family that she hadn't even noticed the disappearance of another friend. Laurel didn't deserve to be stolen away like that; she'd never done anything wrong to end up with all the heartbreak life had dealt her. Thea had felt much better back when she'd believed Laurel had simply decided to leave them all behind. She would have had every right.

And now Oliver was back and Sara was here, for some reason, and it just gave her a bad feeling. Was he really trying to start something with her again? Did he just see Sara as the next best thing since her sister was gone?

Thea was never very good at handling these things quietly, so she finally asked, "So, how long do you think it's gonna take them to start screwing around up there?"

"I'm not sure it's what you're thinking, Speedy," said Tommy. "Oliver didn't actually want Sara to come along, and they both seem pretty tense around each other. They were arguing about something."

"What, whether or not to just continue disrespecting Laurel's memory?" She glanced over the contents of another vendor's stall. "I'm not stupid. People don't usually come back from years of being missing. We got lucky with Ollie and Sara, but — Tommy?"

She looked back to see he had frozen in place and was staring off into the distance. Mr. Diggle came up to his side.

"Something wrong?"

"No, it's just — is that my dad?"

Thea turned and tried to follow his line of sight. Sure enough, Mr. Merlyn was cutting a path through the other end of town while wearing the strangest outfit. All black and sort of medieval-y. Yet weirdly familiar for some reason...

"What's that on his back?" It almost looked as if he was carrying a quiver and bow. But that was crazy.

"He's headed for the mountain," said Mr. Diggle. He frowned and put a hand over where Thea knew he kept his gun. "You two head back to the plane. Now."

"Wait, what?"

"No way," Tommy argued. "If something's going on with my dad, I need to know."

Mr. Diggle frowned, his eyes darting to the path Mr. Merlyn was rapidly disappearing down. "You'll stay behind me the whole time. And if I say to run, you do so."

"You think it's really dangerous?" Thea asked.

"I don't know yet, Miss Queen. But I do know that he's wearing the same clothes that Dark Archer had on at Christmas."

It clicked in her head then, where she'd seen his strange attire before. Tommy was gaping, and she doubted she was faring much better.

Mr. Diggle started off at a quick walk, and they hurried to catch up.

"What's your dad doing here?"

"I don't know. This doesn't make sense. Why would he have followed us here?"

"Well, we're the ones following him now," she pointed out.

It was weird. Mr. Merlyn kind of always did give off a creepy vibe — if she was honest with herself, Thea had never liked the way he seemed to hang around her mom ever since her dad and Oliver had vanished out at sea. But stalking them to another country while dressed, if Mr. Diggle was right, as a crazed murderer? How was this happening? And why was it happening when they had no idea where Ollie and Sara were?

Thea stumbled over the rocky path once or twice — she really wished she'd known to wear sneakers or something more practical, but she'd been banking on Ollie running off to some ski lodge where she could rent boots — and Tommy took her arm to help her along. Mr. Diggle kept a steady pace, pausing occasionally to peer ahead, and Thea was reminded that her brother's bodyguard had been to war. If he was this tense already, what were they walking into?

He raised a hand to signal they stop, and they all picked up Sara's voice just over the next ridge.

"You can't come through here, Mr. Merlyn."

"You think you can stop me?" Mr. Merlyn asked, far more menace in his voice than she was used to hearing. Thea exchanged a wide-eyed look with Tommy.

"I can see you're with the League. But this is the only chance I have to free my sister, so no one's coming through here till Ollie gets back with her."

Thea only just held in a cry of shock. This was about Laurel? And Oliver was getting her? What was going _on?_

"If Oliver thinks he can best Ra's al Ghul, he's a bigger fool than you are."

Mr. Diggle charged up over the ridge, gun drawn and pointed. "She's got backup. That's more than I can say for you."

Tommy scrambled up after him, and Thea was right on his heels. "Dad!"

Mr. Merlyn had an arrow drawn and pointed at Sara, but he turned his head back to them with a sharp hiss of, "Keep your voices down! They'll hear you."

"Who?" Thea demanded. "What the hell is going on, and where are Ollie and Laurel?"

Mr. Merlyn seemed to realize Mr. Diggle had him covered, for he lowered his bow and tucked the arrow back into his quiver. Then he walked over to them with his hands raised, beckoning to Sara to join them.

"We are only a stone's throw from the first guard stationed to protect the fortress of Nanda Parbat," he explained in a lowered voice. "So it would do all of us well to keep our voices down."

"Fortress of what?" Tommy asked.

"Nanda Parbat," Sara repeated. "It's why we're here."

"I suspected as much when Oliver told me where you were going. I'm not a big believer in coincidences, and there were just too many lining up when it came to him and Starling's new vigilante."

"Wait, what?" Thea had to wonder if she wasn't still asleep in that plane bathroom and dreaming up this bizarre situation. "You're not saying—"

"The Hood's arrival coincided with Oliver's return. His hospitalization coincided with my encounter with the Hood. And now he has adventured here to the home of the League of Assassins," Mr. Merlyn stated.

"But dad. You're not — I mean, you wouldn't just hold a bunch of people hostage at Christmas," Tommy argued. "That's crazy."

"There's a lot about me I haven't told you, Tommy," Mr. Merlyn replied. "A lot about the lengths I am willing to go."

"Like traveling all the way to the Himalayas to put your rival in the ground?" Mr. Diggle guessed. He was still aiming at Tommy's father, and given what they now knew, Thea was glad for it.

But Mr. Merlyn shook his head. "I didn't come here to hurt Oliver. I came to save him. To stop him before he could reach the League."

"The League of Assassins," Thea repeated just to be sure. When that got a nod from three of their group, she threw her hands up in the air. "Why is there a League of Assassins? And why do we know about them?"

"And what do they have to do with Laurel?" Tommy added, to which Thea gave her own approving nod.

"The League is an old order. It's been around for hundreds of years. When I left you after your mother was killed, Tommy, I wandered the Earth totally lost. And then I found my way here to Nanda Parbat, where I was taken in and trained. That is how I know of them and how I know that Oliver is in danger."

"Then how do we help him?" Mr. Diggle asked.

"The only way we might hope to do that now is to infiltrate another way. The catacombs. Follow me." Mr. Merlyn turned and took a path that led down into some brambles. Thea was thankful she'd at least worn long sleeves, though her hair was another matter as it got caught once or twice.

"So why the change of heart about the Hood?" Mr. Diggle was asking. He still eyed Mr. Merlyn suspiciously.

"I didn't know who he was before. Now that I do, I hope to reconcile with Oliver and persuade him to my plan along with Moira."

"What do you mean along with my mom?" Thea spoke up from near the back. "What plan?"

"My plan to save the city."

"Why does it involve hostages?" Tommy asked.

"Look, does any of this matter right now?" Sara demanded harshly. "We can sort it out once we get in and out with Oliver and Laurel."

"Yes, how did your sister become mixed up with the League?" Mr. Merlyn had brought them to what looked to be a rock wall, but he reached into a crevice and then one of the rocks slid aside to reveal a dark tunnel. How did that work? They were _rocks._ "Quietly, if you don't mind."

They all filed in while Mr. Merlyn took a torch from the wall and lit it, and it was silent for long enough that Thea wondered if Sara was ever planning to answer. At last, she muttered, "It was my fault."

"Let's leave it at that," Mr. Diggle said before anyone could ask. "I don't think everyone can be expected to keep quiet about the rest of it."

Thea looked between the pair of them with curiosity that burned hotter than ever. Her brother was for some reason somehow the crazy vigilante everyone was talking about back home, Mr. Merlyn had beat him up over Christmas, and yet there was somehow still more she didn't know. That shouldn't have been possible.

But it was something about Laurel. And Sara seemed to think her sister was still alive. If there was one thing today that Thea wanted to be true, that was it.

Mr. Merlyn paused, and so did the rest of them. There was a faint sound somewhere over their heads, like a sort of clanging.

"We're too late."

"Dad, what do you mean? What about Oliver?"

"He's engaged Ra's," was all Mr. Merlyn offered in explanation. "Nothing will save him now."

Thea stood there, shivering in the chilled air of the tunnel, and willed herself to wake up. But it didn't happen. This was real.


	6. Chapter 6

**Very late to update, I know. Unfortunately, the holiday week has kept me very busy. I'm done hosting family now, though, so my schedule should become more open now. At any rate, I won't keep you waiting any longer for the big confrontation, so here it is. I hope you enjoy!**

**-RayWritesThings**

**Chapter Six**

_Three years ago_

Their stay at Nanda Parbat was brief. It was less than a week before they were sent out again, this time to the territory surrounding Kabul. Instead of a hotel, it seemed the League had their own place members operated out of when in the area. Laurel wondered whose home this used to be.

"Your target is a warlord. He has contributed to the terrible instability in this region, and there is the blood of countless on his hands. The Westerners will never bring him to their International Court because of the aid he sometimes gives the American troops. But he also supplies weapons to the insurgents — he profits off the fighting. He is better dead than allowed to continue."

Laurel nodded. She had a feeling Nyssa was trying to assuage her guilt in telling her all of this more than anything. Her friend took off the quiver slung over her back and held it out to her.

"A distance weapon would be best in this case."

_Easier,_ was what she didn't say. But they both knew it. Laurel took the quiver and bow and silently left the safe house.

The warlord lived in a compound intensely guarded. She was in comparatively lighter attire than usual to blend in, but the sweat ran down her forehead as she made slow, incremental progress further past each defense, knowing that one false move would end everything. For her, and for her city.

Her target's voice could be heard from an open window. He was sitting in a chair and speaking, whether to someone in the room or over the phone she could not tell. Laurel readied her stance and her shot.

It was easy. Easy in the sense that she had practiced the motions a thousand times. Draw back, hold, and release.

The arrow sailed true, straight through the window and into the warlord's chest. Laurel stood frozen for a moment, eyes locked on his form as it seized and slumped forward, the life leaving him as suddenly as if she had just cut a string.

It was a crucial moment.

A spray of bullets shattered the wall that she had been hiding behind while a second grazed just over her head. Laurel ducked and sprinted, turning mid-run to fire back at her pursuers to ward them off.

She vaulted the gate of the compound with her staff and kept running long after the surrounding land became more of a desert. She didn't stop, because stopping would mean thinking. Thinking about what had happened, about the dead man back in the compound that _she _had killed—

As soon as she cleared the door of the safe house, the adrenaline seemed to leave her in an instant, and the reality of what she'd done at last caught up to her. She fell to a knee but staggered back up again as bile rose up in her throat.

Laurel shut herself in the bathroom and emptied the entire contents of her stomach into the toilet, then continued to retch. Her throat burned, but her insides continued to roil.

Cool hands combed through her hair, pulling it back from her face, and Laurel was finally able to take a few gasping breaths. Her head dropped to rest on the seat as her limbs trembled, too exhausted to rise on her own.

Nyssa wiped the cold sweat away with a cloth, then lifted Laurel from the bathroom floor. She got her into the bed, then climbed right in after her.

"Wha—"

Nyssa shushed her and continued to comb her fingers through Laurel's hair. It was a comfort she hadn't felt in so long, and she found herself relaxing into it. If she shut her eyes, she could imagine she was safe at home with a stomach bug that had her feeling this sick and disgusted with herself. That the man wasn't dead on the floor where she'd left him.

"Laurel."

She turned around to face Nyssa. It was the first time in months she had heard her own name.

"I have been cold to you. Truthfully, I found my father's deal with your mother to be repulsive and wished to have no part in it."

"That makes two of us," she croaked.

Nyssa's lips twitched just the slightest bit. "I always knew this first assassination would be difficult for you. Many members experience this despite choosing the ways of the League. You will recover just as they have."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Laurel convinced. "That it'll just get easier. That I'll just stop caring about the lives I'm taking."

Her friend was quiet for some time. "When I take my father's place as the Head of the League of Assassins, my first act as Ra's will be to release you of your obligation to us. I promise you that."

"Is that even possible?"

"There is one such case. _Taer Saher._"

Laurel thought back over her lessons. "The Magician?"

"Yes. He was a Westerner like yourself who trained with us for two years. He was favored by Ra's, and my father chose to release him from the League upon the completion of his training. With this precedent, none would question my decision to release you as well."

"Nyssa…" Laurel felt overcome. Her eyes trailed over the woman's face, drifting down to her lips. The moment seemed suspended in the air for an age as they watched each other, neither making a move.

Then Nyssa turned away. "I'm sorry, Laurel."

Her eyes squeezed shut, though they remained dry. It was the second time she heard her own name since being forced into the League. It would also be the last time.

The situation was almost as cruel as the rejection of her family. Nyssa was good and kind despite everything she had been raised on. In another life, she might have fallen in love with her. But it was poisoned by her entrapment in the League. She had not chosen this life, not even out of some kind of desperation the way others seemed to have. She had been sold, hardly better than chattel, and Nyssa either would not or could not see past that.

The next morning, they made a silent trek back to the fortress. When they returned, she was summoned to see Ra's. She arrived in the chamber just as he had finished robing after climbing out of the sunken pit in the room. She didn't know much about it except that it was off limits to anyone but Ra's and the Priestess who sometimes aided in conducting various League ceremonies and rites.

"Nyssa tells me you have performed your duties well, _Taer al Aswad._ I trust now that you have accepted our mission to eliminate evil in this world."

"Thank you, Ra's," she replied, gritting her teeth as she kneeled on the floor. It was galling to think this man had forced her to give up her home and life to kill for him and still he thought of himself as righteous.

"You will remain in Nanda Parbat for a time to continue your training and to guard the fortress from our enemies."

She had a feeling she knew why Ra's kept them on a rotation. If they spent too much time abroad, they might forget to come back to the League. And in her case, he probably wanted to make it as hard as possible to slip away.

When she at last reached her room, she found a black leather jacket laid out on her bed. Picking it up, she thought she caught a faint whiff of the rosemary infusion Nyssa washed her hair with. She shed the outer layers of her uniform and slipped it on, hugging herself and taking a moment to revel in the feel of civilian clothes that were her own to keep.

It had been late winter when they had left for Nanda Parbat. A late Christmas, then.

She scoffed at herself. As if a killer like her deserved one.

_Present day_

Oliver was led into the fortress and through various passages to a large room. A man stood on the raised dais at the far end of the room, with a woman to his right and two steps behind. They were the only two whose heads were uncovered; the others all wore identical uniforms to the Dark Archer's.

Oliver's guide stepped forward and knelt before the two on the dais. He spoke in rapid Arabic of which Oliver only understood his own name, and then, at an order, rose to his feet and moved to the side with a number of his fellows.

The man on the dais came down. "Oliver Queen. Welcome to Nanda Parbat. You know who I am?"

This man practically exuded power, but Oliver's voice remained steady as he answered, "You are Ra's al Ghul. The Demon."

"I am the Demon Head. As were those before me. Why have you requested an audience?"

Oliver squared his shoulders. "I'm here to ask you to release a woman from your League. A woman who was brought here against her will three years ago." It was only through sheer will that he kept the accusation out of his tone. "Her name is Dinah Laurel Lance, and she is someone I care for a great deal. Is she still alive?"

"There is no one by that name who resides in this fortress."

He'd expected something like that, so Oliver withdrew his wallet and took the old photo from it. He held it out carefully. "Then maybe you know her face."

Ra's al Ghul stared the image down, impassive. But the woman by his side stepped forward.

"You are speaking of _Taer al Aswad._ The Blackbird."

Even before Ra's turned to her with a glower, Oliver could guess who this was. "Nyssa. You are not to interfere in this."

"You granted him an audience. It is not part of tradition to lie."

"And it is not part of tradition for you to question me." Ra's snarled something at her in Arabic, and Nyssa ducked her head, turned and exited the main chamber. Oliver tried not to let his disappointment at that action show; perhaps his only ally was gone.

The Demon Head turned back to face him. "_Taer al Aswad _is here not by her will, but her mother's. She was promised to me in exchange for another."

"I'm aware."

"Then you must also be aware of the agreement her mother made. Should any of the family of _Taer al Aswad_ attempt to reclaim her, I will consider it an attack on the League itself and strike accordingly."

"Yes, but I am not Laurel's family," Oliver said. He refused to use the name Ra's had designated to her. She was still Laurel. He had to believe that. "I am acting independently of your bargain with her mother.

"And what action will you take? Residing here in her place?"

It would be the simplest solution in some ways, he supposed. Yet Oliver had a mission to complete back home, and he'd already been away five years instead of fulfilling his father's wishes. He had his own family to return to. Judging by the man's tone, he also doubted Ra's would accept another trade.

"How are challenges to the Demon Head handled in tradition?" Oliver asked instead.

Ra's smirked. "In tradition? Combat to decide a victor, and who shall be the next Ra's al Ghul. But you are an outsider. I am not obligated to allow you to try."

Oliver shook his head. "I'm not leaving without Laurel. So you may as well accept the challenge."

Ra's motioned with one hand, and that was all the warning Oliver had before one of the League drew their sword and swung it at him. He dodged and grabbed the man's shoulders, flipping him over.

Another came to attack and Oliver rolled, coming up to his feet with his knife in hand, which he stabbed his second attacker with.

He took the man's sword as well for good measure to fight off his first opponent who had gotten back up. In a series of quick blows, he was disarmed, but Oliver reached and twisted the other man's sword arm until it snapped.

To his credit, the assassin didn't even cry out, but he dropped to a knee. Oliver wasted no time in snapping his neck to finish the process.

"Is that enough for you?" He demanded to Ra's. "I will go through your entire League to get to Laurel if I have to, or we can settle this now."

Before Ra's could answer, movement near the back of the room caught both their attentions. Nyssa had returned with another League member, and Oliver went still.

All that could be seen of her were the eyes that peered out of the covering, but he would know their green shade anywhere. They widened at the very sight of him, and it was hard to remember there was anyone else in the room.

_Laurel._ After so long, at last, there she stood. Nothing like what he remembered, nothing like what he'd have expected first coming home. But it was her.

Oliver took a half-step towards her, her name on his lips, but remembered himself. There could be no real reunion until the matter of her freedom had been settled.

"_Taer al Aswad,_" Ra's said. A hint of amusement colored his tone. "This man says he comes to fight for you. He has even challenged me, the Demon Head, to a duel. Do you wish for Mr. Queen to proceed with his plan?"

"No."

Oliver took a step back, the rejection hitting him like a physical blow. He watched as Laurel moved forward to stand before the dais, kneeling in front of Ra's. He hated the sight of her submitting to the tyrant who had held her prisoner for so long.

"Ra's, this man is barely educated and hasn't the strength to clean his own room, much less fight a duel. If he came here, it was on a dare or as a joke. He doesn't know what he's saying."

Oliver closed his eyes under the weight of her accusations. He'd known there was little to no chance Laurel would be happy to see him after what he'd done, or think anything but the worst of him. It was only fair that she hated him.

Ra's next words had him reconsidering what she'd meant, however. "Save your breath defending him from me, Blackbird. He has already killed two of my assassins."

Laurel looked back at him sharply, her eyes taking in the fallen men and then him. He couldn't read much beyond shock. If only he could see the rest of her face.

"This is the one and final challenge I will accept for _Taer al Aswad,_" Ra's decided. "This matter has grown tedious. Should you fail, Oliver Queen, you forfeit not merely your own life, but hers as well."

Laurel stood and in the same moment Nyssa stepped forward. "Father—"

"Speak out of turn again, Nyssa, and there will be consequences of a severe sort. I await only Oliver Queen's answer."

All eyes were turned on him, and Oliver hesitated. He did not want to put Laurel's life on the line — but would he ever get this sort of chance again? Would Ra's even let him leave alive since he had killed two of the League's own already?

He looked to Laurel, and with just the slightest movement of her eyes and brows, he could tell she was conveying that he run. One of her hands rested over the scabbard hanging to her side.

But that wasn't the plan. He was done running away from Laurel. It was time he ran to her, wholeheartedly, the way she had once done to a him who had never deserved it.

"The challenge still stands," he said.

"Very well. We will commence with it here." In a few short orders, Ra's had the floor cleared of the two dead assassins and weapons brought over to Oliver for selection. He picked a sword and tested it, raising an eyebrow as Ra's merely stood there and watched.

"I will take it from you once you have finished with it," the Demon Head said to his unspoken question. He then disrobed from the waist up, leaving his chest bare. Oliver did likewise when it was indicated that he should.

There was a small gasp from the side of the room where Laurel had been pulled by Nyssa. He couldn't dwell on it, though. Both of their lives were on the line. It was time to focus.

Oliver was allowed the first move. He went on the offensive, jabbing and striking with the sword, but Ra's moved quickly and dodged often.

He struck once through the man's defenses, managing a light cut to his side. Ra's drew back, blood beading and starting to trickle down from the cut.

"Impressive," Ra's said. "There are few who could manage even that."

And then he moved, this time even faster. Somehow Oliver was now the one on the defensive, using his sword to block more than to attack. He tried circling around his opponent, but an opening he hadn't realized he'd left allowed Ra's to kick one leg high into the air and connect with his throat.

He staggered back, struggling for breath, and felt the sword snagged from his slack grasp. In the next moment, pain like fire ripped through his side as he was run through.

Oliver dropped to his knees, blood bubbling up and dripping from his mouth, before landing on his back.

"_No!_"

Upside-down from his blurred perspective on the ground, he saw Laurel struggle against the hold of Nyssa and another masked League member. If she interfered, it would mean her death. But his defeat meant death for the both of them.

He had to get up. No voice, no person in his mind needed to tell him that. He knew it in his bones. As long as he drew breath, Laurel was not going to die here.

Ra's was already walking away. Oliver rolled onto his stomach, then pushed up. The man had only a moment to turn before Oliver had thrown his weight at him blindly, the sword being knocked to the floor and out of reach as they fell. They grappled, Ra's jabbing a fist at the wound in his side and causing a howl of pain.

Rage and the desperate need to survive carried him over as it always had. Oliver slammed his enemy's head against the stone, then reached bloodied hands and arms around his neck. Ra's placed his own hands around Oliver's throat, fingers scratching the skin and drawing blood. But with one last twist—

A sharp _crack_ signified the end. The Demon Head's lifeless body dropped beneath him, and Oliver staggered up, listing to the side almost immediately.

Two hands caught him before he could fall.

"Oliver!"

Laurel's eyes. The same beautiful green. He'd never known anything prettier, not in the whole damn world.

"I'm sorry," he choked out. "I thought- I thought we'd have more time."

It was his father's words that had come to him, then, along with the knowledge that he was failing him now. The mission had not been completed.

But maybe it still could be. Laurel was free now, and had always been the better person in his life. If he could trust anyone to see this through, it was her. "Find Diggle…" He coughed and could no longer use his voice.

Laurel's eyes were the last thing he saw.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello, everyone! I've been really grateful for all the response to this story in the previous year, and I'm excited to see what you all think of the final three chapters. Without further ado here's the next part, which I hope will prove to have surprises yet. Thanks for reading!**

**-RayWritesThings**

**Chapter Seven**

_Present day_

Laurel could feel nothing but shock for a moment. Ra's was dead. _Oliver_ had killed him. He had come to free her, and now was dying in her arms.

She ripped the covering from her head, pressing it to the wound that still bled. "No, no, no. Please, Ollie, you can't go yet. Not yet," she commanded. Her voice was steady, and there were no tears. She'd trained herself long ago not to shed them.

Her free hand traced along scars she'd never seen before, scars that had shocked even her when he had first removed his coat and shirt. What had he been through all this time, and why had it led him here to die?

There was a terrible scream in a voice she thought she had to be dreaming to hear. But Thea Queen burst through the ranks of silent League observers, throwing herself down by her brother's other side.

"Ollie! No, no, Ollie!"

Laurel's eyes caught additional movement as others hurried in. Tommy, his father dressed in a League uniform save the head covering, and a stranger with a gun.

"Laurel, oh my God, _Laurel._" Tommy looked on her like she was a ghost. "What- What are you doing here? What the hell is going on?"

Behind him, she could spot another lurking, and Laurel's eyes widened. _Sara._ What did she think she was doing here, after all these years? Did she even realize she was trying to hide behind the others now, and how futile that was?

The stranger holstered his sidearm and stepped forward. Laurel withdrew her knife. He held up both hands.

"Easy! I'm his bodyguard. I have some field medicine training."

Warily, she lowered the knife and allowed him closer. He listened at Oliver's mouth and checked his wrist.

"Breathing and we got a faint pulse. If I can stitch him up, we might get him to a hospital or a doctor of some kind down there."

"He won't last down the mountain. There's only one thing that can save him," Mr. Merlyn argued. "The Pit."

"What Pit?" Thea practically wailed.

"The Lazarus Pit," Laurel said. "How do you know about it?"

"Because he is _Taer Saher,_" Nyssa pronounced with venom. She was standing just by Laurel's shoulder. "The Magician."

Laurel's eyes widened. The one Ra's had once allowed to go free. She had known him all this time? What could have ever brought Mr. Merlyn to train with the League?

"Hello, Nyssa. You've grown since we last met. My condolences for your recent loss."

"You cared nothing for my father. And here you return along with this- this _usurper—_"

"Careful how you speak of the new Ra's al Ghul," Mr. Merlyn warned, his tone going cold. "He won the challenge. Now it is the League's responsibility to see him healed."

Everything Nyssa had said about the Magician told Laurel she should not trust Tommy's father any longer. But Oliver needed the Pit before it was too late and they lost his soul. She stood, hefting his limp form into her arms with only a little difficulty. She had plenty of strength, but he had clearly built up his own muscle since she had seen him last.

Laurel turned away from Nyssa's betrayed look. "_Sarab,_ inform the Priestess to prepare the Pit."

Oliver's old friend from Hong Kong nodded and departed from the main hall. Laurel began to walk after him, Thea and Tommy both tagging along at her sides while Oliver's bodyguard stuck close behind. She could hear the rustle of Malcolm's uniform nearby as well, and a final set of footsteps further back. Sara, again. Laurel grit her teeth and kept walking.

"I don't understand. How is a Pit supposed to help Ollie?" Thea asked, her voice wavering badly.

"Nanda Parbat sits on the site of the Lazarus Pit, the waters of which have mystical properties. It can heal the worst of wounds," Mr. Merlyn explained. "Your brother will be fine, Thea."

"And what then?" The bodyguard asked.

"Laurel," Tommy said, softer than the others. "Are you — you haven't said much."

"Our first priority is to keep Oliver alive," she stated simply. It felt bizarre to watch Tommy Merlyn walk the halls of Nanda Parbat. She wondered if this was some fever dream, some last gasp of hope for a rescue that had turned nightmarish with Oliver's injury.

The Priestess was ready when they arrived. Laurel checked a final time; Oliver was still breathing, and, though it was far too slow, a heartbeat was present. She bent over and lowered him into the waters.

"Whoa, whoa, he's gonna drown!" Tommy exclaimed. His father held him back.

The Priestess paced along the other side of the Pit, murmuring her Arabic chants under her breath. After a tense few minutes, Oliver's head broke the surface of the water as he coughed and gasped for air.

Laurel hauled him around by the shoulders, helping him to find the edge of the Pit so he could pull himself up onto the stone. _Sarab _approached with a towel.

"What's going on?" Oliver rasped.

"You won, I think," his bodyguard told him. "They let us use this hot spring to heal you."

Oliver shivered in the cool air of the cavern. He wrapped the towel around himself tighter, but one hand snuck out to cup Laurel's cheek. For some reason, she did not resist.

"Laurel." There was far too much to decipher in his eyes. Too much she didn't know how to feel about. He seemed to realize he wasn't going to receive a response from her, and his eyes drifted over the rest of the group. He grimaced. "Tommy. Thea."

"You have got _so_ much explaining to do," Thea informed him. Then she approached and hugged him. "I thought you were dead."

"I'm sorry. You weren't supposed to see that."

"Like how we weren't supposed to know you're the Hood?" Tommy asked. Oliver tensed and looked up at him. "My dad told us."

Oliver looked Mr. Merlyn up and down, taking in the League uniform, and he stood, moving Thea behind him. "You?"

"I'm afraid so, Oliver. Believe me, I was just as surprised as you are to realize the truth. But now there are decisions that have to be made," Mr. Merlyn stated. "You have earned the right of becoming Ra's al Ghul. I imagine that interferes with certain plans of yours."

No one looked more surprised by this outcome than Oliver. Whatever had caused him to launch this challenge in the first place, he clearly hadn't thought through all the unintended consequences. And Laurel knew she didn't understand enough about the events that had led to so many from her old life turning up here to be of much use. Not yet, anyway.

"You'll need to change before the ceremony," she said. Laurel stood to leave, and Oliver was quick to follow her lead, Thea remaining plastered to his side.

The rest of the group parted as she walked through them to get to the corridors. Sara had kept her gaze lowered, and a fissure of irritation was starting to build in Laurel. She tried to focus on other things while she led them to an unoccupied room.

Oliver stood to become the new Ra's, bypassing Nyssa's inheritance. That wasn't what anyone wanted, though, as far as she could tell. He could abdicate in favor of Nyssa — but then what did the Magician seem to have planned? Why did he and Oliver appear to have a history that went beyond their families knowing each other? And what had Tommy meant when he had called Oliver a Hood?

They all entered, and Laurel nodded over to a partition that Oliver could stand behind to change. Tommy led Thea over to sit on the bed. Mr. Merlyn hovered nearby with the bodyguard covering him, and Sara stood far back against a wall. The silence was tense and no one seemed to know how to break it.

_Sarab_ arrived with ceremonial garb befitting the Demon Head and presented it. Oliver reached out, but stopped, staring at the man.

"Maseo?"

"Maseo is dead. My name is _Sarab,_ and I have pledged my service to Ra's."

"Right." Oliver looked from him to her, uncertainty in his eyes. Laurel stared back blankly. She had never known _Sarab's_ former name, even if she'd been aware of his connection to Oliver.

"Anybody else we know in the murder squad?" Tommy asked snidely.

_Sarab _faced her. "Blackbird, you should change your uniform for the ceremony as well."

Laurel looked down at herself and noticed the blood staining the front of her uniform for the first time. She had lost her head covering somewhere along the way as well, and her hair, normally tied back, was escaping to fall down her back. In any case, it was far from the League's standards.

"Of course." She turned and made for the door.

"Laurel," said Oliver, and she stopped and looked back. "Gather anything you need to take with you."

She was really leaving. Or she would be. It was so close it seemed unreal, but her freedom had seemingly arrived. So much else with it, too.

She had never thought of much beyond her freedom. Where she would go, who would be in her life. The idea that those she'd known were aware of everything that had happened...why had they even come?

Her room was occupied when she entered it. Nyssa stood at the window.

"So. This is to be goodbye."

"You hoped this day would come. You said so yourself," Laurel reminded her. She walked to the side of her bed and picked up her jacket where it lay folded on the pillow. Nyssa must have gotten it out for her.

"Yes, once I succeeded my father." Nyssa turned around to face her. "Your rescuer takes the Magician as his counsel."

"I'm not sure what's going on there." Things had seemed uncomfortable between Oliver and Mr. Merlyn, but their families were old friends. They probably were talking over their options right now.

"Oliver can't stay and be Ra's. He has a family." A family that had to be beside themselves seeing as how he'd nearly thrown his life away for her.

Nyssa approached her. "Then this goodbye will be a permanent one."

"What do you mean?"

"If Oliver abdicates as you say, he will have to choose a successor. The Magician knows this."

Laurel stared hard at her friend's solemn expression. "Nyssa...what will happen to you?"

"What happens to any heir during regime change, I'm afraid." Her friend and mentor's look hardened. "Not that I will make it easy."

_Two years ago_

As a year went by she was no longer the newest addition to the League. She had to wonder what made people so eager to join of their own will, but she kept those thoughts to herself. She was expected like the others to begin training the recruits, and was assigned a man renamed _Sarab_.

She led him to one of the many training rooms with its two racks of weapons, and like Nyssa had done, gestured to the one nearest to him.

"You will select a weapon, and then we will put your mastery of it to the test." She walked to her own rack, then turned to see that their newest recruit had not moved. He was staring at her quizzically. "_Sarab._"

"I know your face."

She froze. "Excuse me?"

_Sarab_ glanced around the room, then said in a hushed voice, "Your face. I have seen it. Before I came here, my wife and I knew a young man in Hong Kong. American, like you. He carried your picture."

Her breath caught in her throat. _Ollie. _He was alive.

The instant after that realization came both a towering rage and a wave of relief that fought each other. He had lived, but he was why she was here. Not directly, no. But then, was blaming him absolving her family of their own crime?

Nyssa entered the room, and she shoved the mess of emotion _Sarab's_ words had caused her aside.

"Your weapon, _Sarab_."

In her room that night, she tried to parse out her feelings. Anger, grief, hurt, concern, so many things she wasn't used to processing so intensely. But Oliver had always done that to her.

She wanted to hate him, and a part of her did. All of this had happened because of his selfish decisions. But was it right to blame someone for the totally unforeseen and unintentional? Much as he'd wronged her, she doubted he would have ever wanted something like this to happen.

And what had to be happening to him? If _Sarab_ had known him before fleeing to the League, what could have been so terrible in Hong Kong? If it was anything like this, she couldn't remain that angry with him. No one deserved this kind of life, especially when they hadn't chosen it.

He still carried her picture. Three years and he still had it. He didn't have the right to have it, considering what he'd been doing when she gave it to him, but—

Did that mean he was sorry? Did that mean somehow he still…?

No. It was foolish to even let her mind go there. Oliver was God knew where if he was even still alive since _Sarab_ saw him, and she was trapped with the League. The wonderful life she'd once envisioned for them had always been an impossible dream. Happy endings didn't exist, not for the kind of person she had become.

At night she had dreams of trailing a target and striking the killing blow, only to turn them over and see Oliver's lifeless face gazing unseeing up at her. Other times, the light would just be fading from his eyes as he whispered, "Who are you?"

She wasn't sure she knew anymore.

Malcolm knew he had a very brief window of opportunity. Circumstances were changing. Just when his end goal had started to come within reach, he found himself presented with more than he could have ever dreamed of. But only if he could make the deal.

"Oliver, let's talk."

His rival from Christmas looked over the partition at him. "Okay. Why did you use the League uniform to become the Dark Archer?"

"Because I needed a way to confront the Hood. To make certain he wasn't interfering with my plans."

"Plans?" Tommy gave a humorless laugh. "Why do you have plans? What the hell is going on with either of you?"

Malcolm barely refrained from rolling his eyes at his son. He'd always known Tommy was weak, and that he clearly didn't understand the situation was no surprise. "This doesn't concern you, Tommy."

"Uh, I think it does," Thea Queen countered. Malcolm sighed. "Can we just back up for a minute? You joined a crazy league of killers when all of us were kids, Oliver came back from his island and decided he wanted to be a cray killer for some reason—"

"The Hood isn't just about killing," John Diggle spoke up.

The girl threw her hands up in the air. "Then what is it?"

"Robert's legacy," Malcolm said. He caught Oliver's eye as the younger man emerged in the lush robes he'd been provided. "He did tell you the truth before he died."

"Yes," Oliver admitted.

"What truth?" Tommy asked.

"Our fathers weren't the men we thought they were, Tommy. You can see that for yourself," Oliver answered, never taking his eyes from Malcolm. "What my father didn't get to tell me was who was in charge, and of what. Why did you write the list?"

Malcolm shook his head. "The list was an old idea, abandoned before you even set sail on that yacht. I've had much bigger plans for our city in the works."

"Whatever it is, we're not letting it happen," John Diggle said, his hand hovering over his firearm.

"Then perhaps we can come to an arrangement. Oliver, you find yourself at the head of an enterprise you have no interest in running. Managing a business like this is my strength."

Oliver studied him for a long moment. "You want to be the next Ra's al Ghul."

"What? Dad, no." Tommy stood up. "Come on."

"Don't interfere, Tommy."

"But you're sick or not well or- or something!" His son gestured around the room. "Why would you want this?"

"Because with the League, I have the power to change the world. To make it a better place." He looked into his son's eyes. "The place your mother would have wanted."

Tommy fell silent.

"Why should Ollie give it to you?"

He hadn't forgotten Sara Lance's presence, but he'd wondered if the young woman was even paying attention what with the conflict between her and her sister clearly weighing on her mind.

"Because if he does...I will ensure Walter's safe return to his family."

Oliver's eyes narrowed, but Thea stood up, her fists clenched. "It was you? You had him abducted?"

"It was the only way to ensure your mother's cooperation."

"Cooperation in what?" Oliver demanded, though his voice was hardly louder than a murmur.

"An Undertaking." He allowed himself to pace the room. "One that Robert hoped to stop all those years ago. The measures I have had to take in regards to your family have been regrettable — but it can all end here, if you give me the title of Ra's."

"Better idea," said the bodyguard. "I shoot you here and we end your Undertaking ourselves."

He smirked. "The men watching Walter were given specific instructions about what to do should I not contact them within a certain length of time upon leaving for this trip. I am the only one who can call them off. Kill me here, and he'll be dead before you touch back down in the states."

"Dad, listen to yourself!" Tommy begged. "This is blackmail!"

"No, it's just good business." His eyes never strayed from Oliver. "Do we have a deal?"

The door opened, revealing the man called _Sarab_ once more. "The ceremony is ready, Ra's."

The group was shown back to the main hall, not that Malcolm needed a guide. Tommy was staying about as far away from him as possible, but what was important was Oliver. He could see the gears turning, contemplating his options. But there was only one option for someone like him. That was the problem when you allowed yourself to care about people; they became liabilities.

Oliver was led up to the dais and given the ring that signified the holder of the title of Ra's al Ghul. The Priestess retreated, and Oliver turned to face the room. All members of the League kneeled in recognition of their new leader. As he was technically one of them no longer — for the moment — Malcolm remained standing. He wasn't about to show weakness to his rival at this crucial point.

Near the back of the room, Malcolm noticed the arrival of Laurel Lance and Nyssa, who joined in the kneeling.

"Thank you," Oliver said to the room. Malcolm tried not to sigh; the young man was in over his head. He was doing Oliver a favor taking this out of his hands. "My first act as Ra's al Ghul is to call on the Blackbird."

Laurel Lance stood and walked to the front of the room, removing her head covering in one motion. Gone were most of the traces of her innocent youth; he could see that clearly from where he stood. The planes of her face were sharper, thinner though not quite to the point of being sickly. Her eyes spoke of weariness, the kind that was set deep in a person. Malcolm had little doubt she would have lasted here much longer. Nanda Parbat was not for those who wished no longer to live.

She stepped onto the dais and kneeled in front of Oliver.

"What is your will, Ra's?"

"You have served the League well these last three years. But I see your contract with the previous Demon Head as void upon his death. Therefore, I release you from your obligation to the League of Assassins."

A shaky breath left her, and Laurel Lance rose onto her feet. And then, in an unexpected, almost jerky movement, she stepped forward and hugged him.

No one looked more surprised by it than Oliver, who took a moment to return it. Then his look changed. Malcolm caught the slightest movement of her lips by his ear. What was she planning?

Laurel Lance released Oliver and backed off of the dais. She remained standing there amongst the other League members rather than off to the side with her old friends and sister. Interesting.

Oliver kept his eyes locked with hers for a moment and then looked to the back of the room again. "Nyssa, come forward."

Malcolm raised both eyebrows as the former Heir to the Demon approached, eyeing Oliver warily. She stepped onto the dais and bowed her head but did not kneel.

"You have served the League well, acting as trainer and second in command," Oliver began. "And for that, I release you from its service."

Nyssa's head snapped up. "What?" She looked around at Laurel Lance, whose gaze was on the stone floor.

Using Oliver to get her friend to safety. Clever, he had to give her that.

"You would dare—"

"It is my will as Ra's, Nyssa. You are dismissed from Nanda Parbat."

Nyssa got up, eyes flashing, and stormed from the room. She never had learned to temper her passions. He would have had to teach her a lesson about that were she still in the service of the League. It would have been a good show of strength to any members who were not familiar with his time as one of the Horsemen of Ra's. A pity, but Miss Lance had always been the clever one in Tommy's social circle.

Oliver let out a breath and looked around the room again. His eyes landed on Malcolm.

"With that concluded, I choose to renounce my claim to the title of Ra's al Ghul. I nominate the Magician in my place."

All eyes turned to him. Malcolm allowed himself a smirk as he walked up onto the dais. Oliver had already removed the ring and set it in his palm.

"I am honored, Oliver. You will see Walter very soon," he added in an undertone. Malcolm turned to face the crowd of assassins who still remained kneeling and then the small group by the wall.

Tommy was shaking his head slowly, like he was choosing to believe none of this was real. Were he stronger, Malcolm might ask him to remain and be his right hand the way Nyssa had been for her father. But Tommy was hardly a worthy heir to Merlyn Global, let alone the League of Assassins.

"_Sarab,_" he pronounced. "Escort the outsiders from the premises."

His new subordinate moved to do just that, and Malcolm smiled. After years of planning, his vision for Starling City would not come to fruition.

But he had even bigger plans for the world.


	8. Chapter 8

**Alright, a chapter big on explanations for some of the characters as they try to catch up with their new reality. I'm hoping everyone really enjoys, and thanks once again for all of your feedback and support for so far. Additionally, thanks to Nyame for making this fic a TVTropes page!**

**-RayWritesThings**

**Chapter Eight**

Everyone was silent as they were led out of the fortress. Sara wasn't sure what she had expected originally, before Tommy and Thea and Mr. Merlyn had all gotten involved. Elation? Anger? Tears?

Laurel was different, that much she could tell. It was hard to know what she was thinking when before her sister had always worn her heart on her sleeve. Sara didn't even want to imagine what must have happened to cause such a change. What was supposed to have happened to her. She only barely suppressed a shudder.

They reached the entrance, and Oliver lingered with their guide. "Maseo, why aren't you with Tatsu?"

"The man you speak of is dead, Oliver. My life and service is with the League."

Oliver looked like he wanted to say more, but suddenly Nyssa emerged from the same entrance, pushing past both men. She was dressed in more casual clothes of all black and had a near murderous expression.

That didn't stop Laurel from approaching her with perhaps the most animation to her face and movements that Sara had yet to see. "Nyssa—"

"You should not have decided my fate for me, Laurel," the other woman said, jerking her arm from Laurel's grasp scarcely after her sister had reached out. "I never asked for release from the League. That was your desire."

"I couldn't let Merlyn kill you," Laurel argued.

"You believe I would have let him?"

"Nyssa, please. You- you were the only one—"

"Whatever kindness you feel you have extended towards me, know that you have forever cast me out of my home and the life I have lived and prepared for as the Heir to the Demon."

"There's more than that kind of life. I could help you. We could figure it out together."

Nyssa shook her head. "I must make my own way, Laurel. Return to your old life with your friends and family."

Nyssa turned and marched away. Sara watched her sister take two halting steps after the woman before stopping in her tracks, her head hanging down.

Sara drew in a breath and then walked over slowly. She brought the rucksack around in front of herself as she got nearer to Laurel. That proved to be a good thing, as Laurel turned sharply at her approach, a knife drawn.

Sara faltered as a couple gasps came from behind them. Her sister stiffened before looking down and tucking the knife back away.

"I, um, I brought you a change of clothes. In case you didn't have any."

"Why are you here, Sara?" It was less a question than a sigh.

"Because you're my sister."

"Really?" Something like a laugh seemed to almost bubble up, but Laurel was not smiling. "That didn't seem to matter much before."

Sara didn't know what to say. There wasn't anything she could say, was there?

"I'm sorry about your friend," she offered, her voice quieting until it was barely above a whisper at the end.

"So...the plane?" Thea asked weakly just as Sara's eyes had begun to sting with water.

"Yeah," Oliver agreed. He took the lead, pausing to touch Laurel's arm briefly before getting them all moving back down the mountain.

It was a long, silent walk. She could feel Tommy and Thea's eyes watching her periodically, when they weren't watching Laurel or Oliver. Sara knew a reckoning of some kind would be coming.

Everyone boarded the plane. Oliver followed Laurel to one of the seats near the back and hovered in the aisle there, clearly unsure if he was welcome to sit with her or not. Laurel turned her face towards the window, and Oliver's eyes closed. He walked back over to where they'd congregated.

"Maybe some time?" He looked just as lost as the rest of them as to how to proceed in regards to her sister.

All except Diggle, who was frowning in thought. He gestured to the rucksack Sara still held. "You want her to have that?"

Sara nodded.

He reached out for the bag, and Sara let him take it. They all watched as he slowly approached, Laurel included. Diggle gestured to the empty seat beside her and spoke, but Sara didn't understand what he said.

Laurel gave a nod, and the man sat down. They began a conversation in a language she didn't have any familiarity with aside from maybe hearing it on television.

Sara started to move towards them, but Oliver stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Digg did three tours in Afghanistan. Let him try."

"Is it Arabic?"

Oliver nodded.

"Can you understand it?"

He frowned. "No."

"So you're as in the dark as the rest of us," Tommy summarized. "I guess that's a first."

"Let's get seated for takeoff," Oliver said, his eyes fixed on the headrest beside Tommy rather than Tommy himself.

They took seats further up the plane, and even if Laurel and Diggle were speaking in English they wouldn't be able to hear them. The takeoff was a little bumpy but soon enough they had leveled out and were on the way away from Nanda Parbat. Hopefully for the last time.

"Will one of you two please finally explain _something?"_ Thea asked across the aisle from her brother. Tommy was leaning towards them as well from his window seat beside Thea. "What did dad tell you before he died that made you think going around every night as a vigilante was a good idea?"

"He told me the truth about our family. That because of him and others like him in positions of wealth and power, Starling City was falling apart," Oliver revealed. "He gave me a list of names he and others — including Malcolm — had drawn up, and asked me to fix it."

"But Ollie, how would your dad have had time?" Tommy asked, and Oliver closed his eyes. "You said he died with everyone else on the boat, except Sara."

Sara studied Oliver. She'd actually never found out what became of his father. He hadn't been there when she came to the island, so she'd assumed the worst.

"I lied. He survived the shipwreck."

Thea was gaping. "But—"

"We were running out of supplies on the life raft, so he gave me the list and he- he shot himself."

Sara felt her own mouth drop open as she saw Tommy do the same. Thea let out a gasp and her eyes welled up with tears.

"He gave his life for me. If I didn't complete this mission for him, that would've been in vain." Oliver raised his gaze to Thea and Tommy. "Do you understand?"

Thea's throat bobbed up and down as she swallowed, but she gave a shaky nod.

"I'm sorry. I just — I don't understand," said Tommy. "I mean, my dad..."

"I didn't know about him until I woke up after the challenge, Tommy, I swear," Oliver said. "I wish I had known."

"He said he joined the League after Rebecca Merlyn was killed," Sara stated. "I don't know how he would've gotten out of it, though." Ra's had not been anywhere near that generous in her case. The price it had exacted on her family was present even now in the distance between herself and her sister in the plane.

Her look back in that direction did not go unnoticed by Thea. "What was Laurel doing there? How'd you know she would be?"

Sara stared down at her feet. "Because Laurel was never missing. Not to me and mom. We knew exactly where she was, cause we put her there."

Tommy frowned. "Sara, what are you talking about?"

She glanced at Oliver once, but he didn't seem about to help her explain herself. "When Ollie and I got separated the second time, I washed up near where Nyssa was, and she brought me to Nanda Parbat to heal. In exchange, I was going to have to pledge my life and services to the League. Only my mom found me."

"How come she never mentioned she found you with this crazy League?" Thea wanted to know.

Sara shook her head. "They're a secret organization that's been around for centuries. They wouldn't be if everyone who ever came across them went blabbing. And that was part of the deal. The deal my mom made with Ra's."

"The guy Ollie just killed," Tommy pointed out bluntly. If Oliver was bothered by the critical tone, he did a good job hiding it.

"He wasn't just a guy, Tommy. He was every bit the Demon they called him." Sara swallowed down her fear and revulsion at having to relive the worst moment of her life yet again and continued, "When my mom found me, he wouldn't let me leave without equal payment. A life for a life. You gotta understand, mom tried to offer herself. She didn't jump right to- to—"

"God, Sara," Tommy breathed. He'd gone very pale, and his head turned back towards Laurel.

Thea's eyes were wider than Sara could ever remember them being. "You mean she…?"

Sara nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. "We had to wait two days. Then they brought Laurel in. She- oh God."

She could still remember her sister's disbelief, the momentary wonder and happiness on her face, before the betrayal had set back in a thousand times worse. How her screams had echoed down the stone corridors all the way their mother had pulled Sara along, almost running and never looking back. Sara was sure if she had — but it was useless to guess what would have happened then. Maybe they'd all be dead.

"Dad never found out. It's been hard talking to him, cause he'll mention her and start in about it, but...I know he's missed her so much. And I have no idea what we're going to tell him."

Thea and Tommy's gazes were heavy on her even without her looking. She could hear their unasked questions. _Why had she let this happen? Why didn't she get help?_ They just didn't understand, neither of them. Even with Tommy's surprising familial connection to the League and the trouble Mrs. Queen had apparently gotten herself in, Tommy and Thea we're still the same spoiled children she and Oliver had been before the _Gambit._ They'd never been forced to make tough choices like this.

Diggle came back up the aisle. "Hit a snag. Laurel wants to leave from China when we stop to refuel."

Tommy frowned. "Leave for where? She's not — you're kidding."

Sara felt something heavy drop into the pit of her stomach and by the widening of his eyes and the twitch of his fingers she knew Oliver was feeling about the same.

"But where would she go?" Thea asked, worrying her bottom lip.

"I think us not knowing is kind of the point."

"She needs to come home. Now that dad knows she didn't just leave, he's been going spare. He has to see her," Sara insisted.

"Well you can't force her to come with you, or how's that make you better than what she just left?" Diggle pointed out. Sara nearly snapped that at least it wouldn't involve killing, but really, was that such a high bar to be aspiring towards?

What did they honestly have to offer Laurel after everything they'd done? The boyfriend who'd cheated on her, the sister who'd let their mother cast her aside.

"I can understand why home is complicated for Laurel," Oliver finally said. "But she should come back to Starling. At least to get her accounts together, renew her passport, anything she needs." He looked tremendously unhappy as he said, "Otherwise we can't stop her from what she wants to do."

Tommy leaned forward with his head in his hands. "This is such a mess."

With a huff of annoyance and a roll of her eyes, Thea stood and shuffled out into the aisle.

"Thea, what are you doing?" Oliver asked with a note of warning.

"Something the rest of you haven't tried. Fight for Laurel."

She marched off down the aisle, leaving their little huddle in silence.

With every step she took, Thea's bravado started to fade. It was easy enough to tell Ollie and all his friends off, but another thing to actually act on her words. She wasn't about to turn around now, though.

It was kind of freaky knowing Laurel had been in an assassin cult for three years, that she had probably killed people, and that she probably could easily kill Thea if she wanted to.

But this was Laurel. Laurel, who had always scolded Ollie and Tommy whenever they complained about Thea following them all around; Laurel, who had nudged Ollie into helping Thea with her homework some evenings even when it was his and Laurel's date night; Laurel, who had answered all of her questions about periods when Thea's mom had been too caught up in grieving. Laurel would never hurt her.

So she took the seat right beside her. "Hey."

Laurel's lips twitched up once. It was a shadow of her old smiles, but it had to be a good sign, right? "Hey, Speedy. How have you been?"

Thea only barely held in a snort. "Seriously?"

Laurel shrugged. "I have been away for three years. There's things I might have missed. You still ride horses?"

The question caught her off guard at first, but Thea shook her head. "I don't do a lot of that stuff anymore. Horseback riding, archery...I kind of let it all fall to the wayside, after."

Laurel nodded.

"Picked up drugs instead," Thea admitted to her lap. "That was a huge mistake. I thought I had it so bad that I just didn't even think about the things I did still have. My freedom, a home, family. I mean, my mom kind of ignores me sometimes, but I know she'd _never_— sorry."

Laurel shrugged again. "It is what it is."

"How can you be so calm?" She couldn't help herself. Each time Thea tried to wrap her mind around what had happened to her friend, she wanted to yell. The Laurel she remembered, she would be screaming out at the injustice with tears in her eyes.

"The League teaches you to remain calm at all times. There isn't room for emotion."

"Well, you're not with them anymore. You can be, you know, angry or sad or anything you want. You can talk about anything."

"Why is Tommy mad at Oliver?"

Thea blinked. Of all the questions, that wouldn't have been her first. "Well, I guess because we just found out he's been going out at night as this vigilante who kills people sometimes and who he himself called a murdering psychopath. Plus he apparently knew you were here and didn't let us in on the plan to get you back."

"Would you have believed him?"

"Well, no. Probably not." Even faced with the reality of what Laurel had been through all these years it was still hard to believe. "You, uh, you don't seem as mad at Oliver as I thought you'd be. You know."

"Because he cheated on me?"

"Yeah," Thea conformed quietly.

Laurel looked out the window. "I had to let my anger go along with everything else, and it was hard to hold onto when that wasn't even close to the worst thing that's ever happened to me in the last few years. There's things I've done that are far worse, too."

Thea looked down.

"He also released me from the League. I'm technically in his debt."

"No way. I may not know my brother as well as I thought I did up until recently, but he would never consider you as in his debt." Even if he really had died in that awful chamber, Thea knew he would have considered it his penance.

She wondered at how her brother and the woman she looked up to and admired had both been forced down this transformative path. As much as Laurel wanted to slip away from the rest of them, Thea thought that she and Oliver might be best able to help the other adjust back to life in Starling.

"Mr. Diggle says you want to leave us."

"I haven't been with you for a long time, Thea."

"I know. And look how that turned out." She shifted in her seat to face her friend fully. "Your dad figured out you were missing a few months ago. He's really worried about you."

Laurel's eyes closed, and she breathed in and out once. "He won't be happy to see me. The daughter he lost doesn't exist anymore."

"Neither does the brother I lost, but I'd rather have Ollie back than not at all," Thea argued, surprised to realize it was true. As frustrating as Oliver had been at times since his return — part of that she could admit was because of her poor lifestyle choices, and part of it made more sense with the full context of his — she would never want to go back to the days where they all thought he'd died. The same as she'd never want to go back to thinking Laurel just left them all.

"I've gone against everything my father ever taught me. Justice outside the law. Murder."

"You did it to survive. You had to. He'll understand that."

"Oh, he'll never find out." Laurel fixed Thea with a look, making it clear she was to hold to this too. "If he ever learns what happened, it would break him. I can't be the reason that happens."

"Then what are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know yet. Maybe nothing."

Thea wasn't sure if that was best, but it was Laurel's father. It wasn't up to her to decide.

"Where will you stay? You can stay at our place," she added when Laurel was silent.

"It sounds like your family's going through enough without having to worry about me."

"Hey, you're family, too." When Laurel looked at her disbelievingly it tore at something in her. Thea's lips pressed tight together for a minute, then she fought to push on. "Actually, my birthday's coming up. There's gonna be a party. So if you wanted to stick around at least until then…"

A breath left Laurel that sounded almost like a laugh. "You've still got everyone wrapped around your finger, huh Speedy?"

She grinned. "Whatever works."

The two shared a smile, and, for the moment, it was as if the intervening years and all that had happened to them both melted away. Thea felt genuinely happy for the first time in a while, and she hoped her friend felt the same.

"We're on our way home," she said.

"Yeah," Laurel agreed, but her smile faded. "Home."

_One year ago_

The nights in Nanda Parbat were quiet. Nanda Parbat was always quiet, truthfully, whenever there wasn't training going on. She missed the sounds of the city, of people, of music. She couldn't even think of the last time she'd heard music, and as she lay awake one night, she felt a yearning for it stronger than ever. She'd hardly been called a music lover before she had become _Taer al Aswad_; it had just been one of those things she'd taken for granted.

Hadn't there been a song about a blackbird? She'd heard it on the oldies station her dad put on when he cooked sometimes. The Beatles or somebody. She thought she could grasp just the first few words.

She drew in a shaky breath and began, barely above a whisper, "_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_"

She listened. There was no sound beyond her door.

"_Take these broken wings and learn to fly_

_All your life_

_You were only waiting for this moment to arise_"

She repeated the first line a little louder, a little more melodic.

"_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_"

The next part was escaping her, so she hummed the tune until she could remember something. It nearly made her laugh.

"_All your life_

_You were only waiting for this moment to be free_"

She sighed. "To be free."

After that, whenever she had a few moments to herself, she tried recalling other songs and humming them to herself. They were almost all half-remembered, half-made up things, but it was something to hold onto. Something to remind her that she'd once had a life so different to this one.

"How long has your father been Ra's?" She asked her friend one night. They were taking dinner together in Nyssa's quarters, about the only place they could risk speaking freely. It had occurred to Laurel that, despite his apparent knowledge and experience, the Demon Head hardly looked older than his own daughter some days.

"Many years. Over a century."

The spoonful of soup she'd lifted dropped back into her bowl. "What?"

"Those who hold the title of Ra's are granted access to the Lazarus Pit. You have seen it," Nyssa noted. She nodded. "Its waters are imbued with properties that grant healing and extend life beyond its normal limits."

"He's immortal."

Nyssa made a face. "Not as such. With each use, the Pits lose more of their effectiveness."

"Not by that much," she couldn't help arguing. Ra's didn't look to be a day over forty. Even without a pit and barring injury or illness, he could go on to be the Demon Head for decades yet. And he probably would.

She found herself unable to eat for the rest of that night.

The days continued to pass, and she stopped counting. What was the point? There were no birthdays in Nanda Parbat, no holidays, no reason to keep track of the time except to drive herself crazy thinking of the life that was slipping away from her.

Nyssa's promise remained in her mind, but she knew in her heart it had been a kind gesture only and not a reality. Ra's had no love or respect for his daughter, and with the Lazarus Pit, it could be years or decades before he had to relinquish the title.

Her family had abandoned or forgotten her, and she'd shut down so completely the two years after the accident that she doubted there were any friends who missed her. Or they wouldn't want her back, now that she was no longer the Laurel Lance they had known.

Only _Taer al Aswad_ remained.


	9. Chapter 9

**Coming in quite late, I realize, but we at last have the conclusion to this first installment in the **_**Blackbird**_** series. I will be upfront with you all: part two is yet to be completed. At the moment, I am prioritizing my prompt fills for the upcoming Lauriver week. Then my time will likely be split between part 2 and a couple of my other ongoing WIPs, as well as schoolwork. I hope not to keep you all waiting too long, but at the moment there is no set date or schedule. However, I can at the least give you all the title – **_**Learn to Fly.**_

**I want to thank you all once more for reading and for all of the tremendous feedback you've left on the story throughout all the updates. I hope the conclusion to **_**In the Dead of Night**_** is both satisfactory but leaves you excited for more in the sequel. Please enjoy, and thank you!**

**-RayWritesThings**

**Chapter Nine**

_Present day_

Moira was beside herself.

It was bad enough that Oliver had clearly disregarded her wishes and found a way to head out of the country before she could realize it. She was accustomed to him keeping odd hours ever since his return, but when she hadn't been able to reach either Mr. Diggle or Tommy she had become suspicious. Then one of the staff had informed her that Thea had never made it in the previous night.

Moira had tried every number she could think of to reach her baby. The trouble was she had only a vague knowledge of which classmates she spent her time with. When she failed to show up for school two days in a row was when Moira truly started to panic.

She went to see Malcolm, for if anyone perhaps was keeping better track of her family than her, it would be him. Imagine her surprise when she was informed he, too, was out of town on business.

What was left? To file a missing person's report? And on which of her children?

Moira was still pondering this in the office rather than pay attention to her emails when she received a call from an unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is Heather with Starling General. May I speak to Moira Queen?"

Moira's heart jumped into her throat. Why would the hospital be contacting her, unless— "Speaking."

"You are listed as the next of kin for a Walter Steele. He was admitted this morning."

"Walter?" Her voice barely sounded recognizable.

"That's correct, ma'am."

Moira's hand covered her mouth. How and why had Walter been returned? What sort of play was Malcolm trying to make here?

"Is he alright?"

"The doctors would be more comfortable discussing the patient's care with you in person."

"Yes. Yes, of course. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Heart pounding in her chest, she made her excuses to her secretary without mentioning her husband; she still couldn't quite believe it. Her driver could tell she was agitated but wisely refrained from saying anything as usual.

Moira entered the hospital and was given directions to Walter's room. A doctor was waiting for her outside.

"Mr. Steele has suffered some dehydration, but should make a full recovery. We recommend keeping him here overnight for observation before returning him to his home."

"Of course," Moira agreed, distracted as her gaze went beyond the doctor and into the room. Walter was there, sitting up in bed. Real and returned.

She didn't really register walking up to him. Between one breath and the next she was there reaching for his hand. "_Walter._"

"Moira," he replied, though it was with a grimace rather than a smile. His eyes dropped to their hands. "Where are Thea and Oliver?"

The question stung, though not just from the slight insult. "I- I don't know."

His head jerked back up. "Good lord, they weren't—"

"No." Malcolm would never, not if he knew what was good for him. "Oliver was talking about taking a trip. I asked him not to, but he, he won't listen to me anymore. And Thea...I'm not sure. She disappeared around the same time."

Had they gone together? She'd be happier knowing they were both in the same place and had each other, but it angered her to know Oliver had not only ignored her but dragged his sister along with him. Did he simply not care how she felt or how she worried?

"Once we have you home, we can look for them."

Walter hummed, not a refusal but not exactly an agreement. Moira wondered if he knew after all.

She stayed regardless until visitor's hours were over, then returned early the next day to secure his discharge papers. It would be better to get Walter home ahead of the press finding out, after all.

Malcolm still wasn't returning her calls. A worry settled itself deep in her bones: what if Thea or Oliver were missing _because_ Walter was here?

It was irrational. Impossible. Yet as she helped him up the stairs, Moira's hands trembled. She was sure he noticed.

They both jumped as her phone went off in her purse. Moira fished it out, hardly believing the name on the caller ID.

"Sweetheart?"

"Hey mom," Oliver said, sounding perfectly at ease. "I wanted to let you know I'm bringing some people over to the house with us."

"Us?" She echoed.

"Me, Digg and Thea," he answered.

Moira let out a breath she'd been holding for days. "She's with you? Good. Oliver, I need you to come home with Thea and Mr. Diggle right now, but this is not a time for guests."

"Walter's back." It wasn't a question.

"How did you know?"

"There's some things we all need to talk about when we get to the house." Her son's voice was steady and calm, yet it filled her with anxiety. "Can you have Raisa prepare one of the guest rooms?"

"One of them?"

"Yes. We'll be there soon. Thank you, mom." It lacked some of the warmth she might have expected. Even though her children were supposedly safe, she was just as uncertain as to what was going on as before.

"Was that Oliver?" Walter asked.

"Yes. He says Thea is with him and they're coming home. With guests. You shouldn't feel as though you need to greet them, Walter, you're still recovering."

He was already turning around to go back down the stairs. "I'll be fine. After all, it sounds as though there's to be a discussion of some sort. It's been some time since I was able to participate in one of those." His pointed gaze lingered only for a moment, and Moira closed her eyes once he looked away, the fresh guilt stabbing at her.

Oliver must have called her from the car, for it wasn't long before their front door opened.

"Mom?" Her daughter's voice called out first.

"In here, Thea." Moira stood from the chair she'd placed herself in opposite Walter after her husband had chosen his own solitary seat. She met her daughter in the archway and wrapped her in a hug. "I'm so glad you're alright. Where were you?"

"Sorry. It's, uh, kind of a long story."

"Well, I'm sure Oliver told you about Walter."

Thea smiled as she went past her into the room. "I'm so glad you're back."

She watched Walter give a real smile as he welcomed Thea's gentle hug. "So am I. Though truthfully, I'm not sure how it happened."

"We know."

Moira jumped. She hadn't noticed her son come up behind her. "Oliver."

He raised a hand. "Mom, before you say anything, I knew what I was doing."

"Which was why you took Thea along as well?"

"Actually, I kind of stowed away," her daughter admitted. "And I'm glad I did."

Moira looked between them, then at the front door as it opened again. She gasped as Mr. Diggle led a young woman inside who she instantly recognized. She had stepped forward before she realized it. "Laurel."

Laurel's eyes were on Moira's shoes rather than her face as she said a polite, "Mrs. Queen."

Tommy and Sara Lance were the last to enter, adding to this already remarkable gathering. Oliver ushered them all into the sitting room where he shook Walter's hand.

"Good to see Merlyn keeps his word," Mr. Diggle muttered lowly, and Moira suppressed another jump. If her son's bodyguard was aware of Malcolm's role in the abduction, that could only mean…

"Mom, have a seat," Oliver suggested. "This is going to take some time."

"Oliver, I'm not sure that right now is the best time for a discussion."

He didn't miss the way she gave a significant look around at the others in their midst. "This involves everyone here."

"Including both Miss Lances?" Walter asked.

"Yes," Sara answered. She'd unknowingly taken Moira's chair, and so she went to the couch with Thea and Tommy while Oliver and Mr. Diggle stood at the front of the room. Laurel had gone to stand against the wall, watching out the windows with her arms crossed. Moira wondered at the change in her; aside from the last time they'd spoken when Moira had to deliver the terrible news about the _Gambit,_ Laurel had always seemed such a happy, bright young girl. None of that was present in her now.

Where had she gone? Had she really been missing? And what had brought her back now with Moira's children?

"When Laurel, Tommy and I were eight years old, Mrs. Merlyn was killed," Oliver began. She and Walter exchanged a look, but both nodded. "Afterwards he left for two years. Did he ever tell you where he was all that time?"

Moira shook her head, for it was her Oliver was looking at.

"He found himself in a place called Nanda Parbat. It's the home of a cult which calls itself the League of Assassins."

"Beg pardon?" Asked Walter.

"He's telling the truth," Mr. Diggle said. "They train and take hit jobs."

"To rid the world of evil," Laurel murmured at the window. There was a sardonic edge to her voice, and Moira noticed the rest of them eyeing her warily.

"After two years, Malcolm completed his training and came back here where…" Here, Oliver trailed off and took out a weathered book. Moira still recognized it.

"Where did you get a copy?" Asked Walter.

Oliver's eyes jumped to him. "You knew about the list?"

"I found one like that, though in better condition, among Moira's things last fall." He was watching her now. Moira's hands trembled.

"That's Robert's copy?" When her son nodded, she drew in a breath, trying to calm herself. She was beginning to see where some of this story at least might lead. "You have to understand," she told them, looking to both of her children and Tommy as well. "When Malcolm first approached your father, he said it was about holding others in the city accountable. Getting them to give back."

"So blackmail," Tommy summarized bluntly.

"If you have to call it that, yes. It wasn't until later that Malcolm changed the plan."

"He mentioned an Undertaking," said Oliver.

"Where is Malcolm?" Walter asked the question on her mind, but Mr. Diggle raised a hand.

"Best to do this chronologically. It only gets more complicated from here."

"The Undertaking was Malcolm's _solution_ to the Glades," Moira revealed, the words heavy on her tongue. "When he told Robert...your father was horrified. He told me everything, and I begged him to put a stop to it. But he couldn't go to the authorities because of — well, Malcolm had information about him, too."

"More blackmail," muttered Tommy. His head was hanging low.

"What was his plan, Moira? At least learning it might make the weeks of captivity worth something," Walter said, and there was hardly any mistaking the bite in his tone. She held in a sob. She'd lost him.

"It was — is — a device. He's having it built at Unidac. Once it will be ready, he was planning to use it—" she swallowed thickly. "To level the Glades and everyone in it."

There was a heavy silence. Laurel stepped away from the wall and moved to Oliver's side.

"No way," Sara breathed.

"Mom." Thea shrunk away from her towards Tommy. "You _knew _about this?"

"Yes. But I- I couldn't say anything."

In an act of kindness, Walter spoke up. "She was afraid for you and Oliver. And me, I suppose. Malcolm had already sabotaged the _Queen's Gambit._"

"_What?_" Oliver and Sara both asked at the same time, their voices hoarse. Moira couldn't look at either of them.

"Robert was going to meet with Frank's associates in China. Neither of us knew what Malcolm was capable of back then. If we'd suspected — I never would have let him bring you along, Oliver. Either of you."

"After Robert's death, Malcolm pressured you to take his place in this plot, didn't he? That's what you meant when you said you were one of them," her husband reminded her.

Moira nodded, her misery threatening to release if she spoke.

"Mom, the Undertaking has been stopped. Malcolm called it off," Oliver told her.

She froze and looked up, sure she must have misunderstood. "What?"

"I made a deal with him."

"What kind of deal?" Her worry returned tenfold. It was never safe to be in Malcolm's debt.

Oliver frowned. He looked to Laurel, as if seeking some kind of permission. When she gave the tiniest nod, he faced Moira again. "We have to talk about what happened after the _Gambit_ went down."

Sara's head lifted. "He means what happened to my family. Mom lied about where she found me. It wasn't in some random village with no WiFi."

Moira and Walter again exchanged puzzled looks.

"It was in Nanda Parbat."

"The home of this...League?" Walter checked.

"Yeah. They'd found me washed up after — well, after an attempt to get home gone wrong."

Moira thought she could tell by her son's face that he knew already whatever it was Sara was choosing not to say. What had happened to him on that island? Those scars, how had he gotten them?

"The League chose to nurse me back to health, but in exchange I was supposed to swear my loyalty to them. To join them."

"Good Lord," Walter breathed. Yet Moira noticed Laurel's lips twist into a frown.

"This was three years ago?" When the others all nodded, Moira stood up. "Laurel, what really happened?"

She caught a flash of surprise from the young woman, but her features were quickly schooled. "The League didn't care who was sworn in as a member, just that someone of comparable age and skill was. That's what they told… our birth mother."

The distinction was clear. Laurel did not consider Dinah Lance her mother anymore because Dinah had — as a mother, it was unbearable to even _think._

Walter had followed the conversation and sat there with horror etched on his face.

"I didn't know how to get her back until Ollie showed up and I saw on the news how good he was," Sara was saying. "I knew he could challenge their leader."

"Challenge?"

"Ollie knows how to sword fight, mom," said Thea, as if that were obvious and everyone should know it.

"Then, you're the Hood," said Walter.

"I am," Oliver confirmed quietly. "When my father died, he gave me the list and asked me to right his wrongs, to bring those who were on it to justice."

Part of Moira wanted to be angry at him and at Robert. How could Robert have put that kind of burden on their son's shoulders? How could Oliver go out there risking his life like that when they'd only just gotten him back?

And yet, he had also clearly unraveled Malcolm's plan for the city. There was to be no Undertaking. Walter was safe. Oliver had saved their family and the girl Moira had once hoped would become a part of that family, too.

She walked forward and cupped his cheek. "My brave boy."

She saw the shock, disbelief and then the gratitude play out across his face. "Mom."

Moira then turned to Laurel, wrapping her in a hug. Laurel was stiff in her hold, one arm mechanically rising to touch Moira's back. She wondered when the last time was that the young woman had experienced this, trapped with the people who had turned Malcolm into the monster he was. However distant Laurel was now, Moira didn't detect any of the cold malice Malcolm held.

"I'm so glad you're home now, dear."

"Thank you, Mrs. Queen."

"What is still left to be done?" Walter asked. Moira pulled back, wiping at her eyes.

"Well, first I need to make a call to Unidac to cancel Malcolm's project." The relief that filled her at being able to make that announcement! "The rest of Tempest will follow my lead."

She looked back at Oliver and Laurel. "Raisa prepared the room. Will you be staying with us, Laurel?"

Laurel glanced between Moira and her son, uncertain. "I haven't decided."

"We have to see our dad first," said Sara, who then stood.

"Of course. I'm sure he's been worried since the news about your disappearance came out, dear." It worried Moira, how little Laurel seemed to be reacting to things. It reminded her of Oliver, especially when he had first come home. Perhaps it just needed time. "You're always welcome here if you should need it."

"Thank you, Mrs. Queen," Laurel repeated. She exchanged a look with her sister, and the two of them left the room. She heard the front door open and shut behind them moments later.

Tommy was the next to get up. "I guess I should go see what state dad left the accounts in. Not to mention the staff."

"What exactly has become of Malcolm?" Asked Walter.

"After I...challenged the leader of the League, they needed a new leader," Oliver said. "Malcolm offered to take that position in exchange for your safe return."

Walter's lips pursed together for a moment. "I see."

"I'll walk you out, Tommy," Oliver offered, and Mr. Diggle shadowed both men as they left.

"I will go unpack," said Thea as she sidled towards the archway.

"We need to talk about your sneaking out, young lady," Moira reminded her.

"Yeah, well we could talk about a lot of things you've been sneaky about too, mom," Thea shot right back. Then she left the room. Moira sighed. She never had been able to control that girl. It had been Robert who had had a real gift with her; the irony of that had not been lost on either of them.

Silence settled in the house, and it was only her and Walter left behind. Moira readied herself before turning to face him. It was time to admit to one of her greatest transgressions.

"Walter, I- I'm so sorry."

"Later, you said, all those weeks ago. Would you have actually told me the truth if Malcolm hadn't interfered?"

Moira was silent. She hadn't truly decided back then; there had been too much to worry about with Oliver's accident, and then Walter had been ripped away from her.

He met her eyes after a few moments. "There's a lot I have to think about, Moira. I ask that you give me space while I do so."

Her eyes lowered to the floor. "Of course."

Her husband stood on his own and left the room.

It seemed hardly believable that Malcolm and his plans were no longer the oppressive presence in her life that they had been for so long. And that her family now knew at the least _some_ of her secrets.

But she had navigated far more treacherous waters. She would do everything she could to salvage the wreckage Malcolm had tried to make of her family.

Quentin didn't know what to think when Dinah's call came through in the middle of his lunch. It was rare enough that she called him to give him pause. Had something happened? Did she have some kind of news about Laurel? She'd found one of their girls, after all.

"Hello?"

"Quentin. I'm sorry to bother you. I just needed to ask —is Sara with you?"

"Sara? No, I haven't seen her since Christmas."

"Oh," Dinah said, her disappointment clear.

"Are you having trouble reaching her or something?"

"Yes. She hasn't been home in days, and when I checked her room I noticed some things missing. That's when I thought she must have packed and gone to you to visit."

"She's never done that before," he pointed out, only halfway successful at suppressing the bitterness.

"Yes, well, with the news about- about her sister, she's been a little shaken up."

"Sure. Well, have you tried any of her friends?"

"She doesn't really — no one has seen her."

Quentin frowned. He knew Sara had been struggling the last few years since she'd gotten back, but if Dinah had been about to say she didn't have any friends, that was worrying. He should have insisted on counseling.

"Alright, keep trying her phone. I'll ask around here." He remembered at least a couple people who'd known Sara when she lived here. Would she have gone to stay with any of them? God, he hoped she wasn't with Queen.

He hung up and started putting his dishes in the sink when he heard the lock in his front door being undone. Only one person besides him had the key.

"Sara?" Quentin called. He dried his hands on a towel as he walked out into the front room. "Your mother just called. She—"

The towel dropped from his hands and his words stuck in his throat. Sara stood there, a tremulous smile on her face, and next to her...he had to be seeing things.

But his eldest lifted her eyes and said, "Hi, dad."

"Laurel." He took a step forward, then another, and then the next thing he knew he was holding her. She stood there like a board for a long moment, then he felt her arms go around him.

"I missed you," she murmured.

"So did I. You have no idea how much." Even when he'd thought she had just left, his anger had in part been fueled by the terrible loneliness he'd felt. Quentin backed up, his hands on her shoulders. She looked thin to his eyes, but not in the way that Sara had become since returning. There was strength in the way she held herself, and though her voice had sounded sincere she looked completely calm. He couldn't get a handle on it.

"Well, where- where have you been? What happened? How did you find your way home?"

Her eyes drifted somewhere over his right shoulder. "I heard you were worried, so I came back."

Quentin stared at her. "What do you mean?"

Her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. "It means you can stop worrying. I'm here now."

"Yeah, but…" He struggled for words. The way she was talking, it was almost like she was saying— "You mean you weren't missing?"

"We don't have to talk about it."

His mouth dropped open for a second in disbelief. "That's where you're mistaken, young lady, cause we do have to talk about it. I had the boys down at the station open up an investigation into you. People are gonna want answers, including me!" His voice was rising, but he couldn't help that he had a very short supply of patience and Laurel seemed determined to test it.

"Dad—" Sara tried to step between them, but he ushered her aside.

"Now do you have an explanation for yourself?"

Laurel's chin lifted. For a moment, he thought he saw it tremble. "I don't have to explain anything."

"Damnit, Laurel," he growled, stepping forward. He raised an arm, intending to point a warning finger—

It all happened too fast for him to really process. Laurel grabbed his arm, yanked him forward and spun him back around. With a kick, he was sent staggering into the wall.

"Laurel, stop!" Sara cried.

Quentin hit it, hard. He slowly turned around, using the wall to support himself and staring in shock at his daughter. She held one hand over her mouth, her eyes full of surprise, pain and regret. Sara was holding onto her other arm.

Laurel moved her hand away and took a hesitant step forward. "Daddy, I didn't mean — I'm sorry—"

"Don't know why you came back," he wheezed. "Don't know what you want from me anymore."

She faltered back, then tore out of Sara's grip and left out the front door.

"Laurel!"

"Let her go, Sara," he told his youngest as she crossed to the door.

Sara spun around, anger in her features. "It wasn't her fault."

"She just said she wasn't missing!"

"She doesn't want you to know what really happened! And the truth is, I'm scared about that, too, but please don't blame her, dad."

Well that about took the wind out of his sails. "I don't- I don't understand. Sara, you know what happened?"

Sara nodded but didn't elaborate even when he gestured for her to go on. "I'm sorry. I'm scared."

"Scared of what?" But when she only stated at him, it hit. "Of me?"

"Not- not _of_ you. Just... it's better if you don't know."

He walked forward, a little shaky — his head was still reeling from being thrown around like that. "Honey, that's not how this works. You two aren't supposed to be protecting me. I'm your father."

But the truth was, Laurel had always been trying to protect him after the _Gambit_ went down, when she'd been here anyway. She'd protected him mostly from himself. Now there was something she and Sara were both unwilling or unable to tell him.

"Sara, where did you get into contact with her? Huh? Where did you find her?" She had to give him something.

Because it didn't make sense for Laurel to have simply heard he'd had her declared missing causing her to decide to come home. Dinah hadn't seen Sara in days. Either Sara had heard from Laurel and gone to meet her, or something else had happened. What, he wasn't sure. Those missing days were crucial.

Why couldn't he ever control his temper when he needed to? Laurel was gone again, at least for the meantime, and he had no idea if she'd come back to him this time. He hadn't wanted it to happen like that at all, but then why was she trying to lie to him?

Quentin sighed when Sara still didn't answer, giving up for now. "Alright, I better call your mother."

"No!"

He stopped in his tracks at the panicked shout. "Why not?"

She seemed to realize her mistake in overreacting and her response came out considerably weaker. "Well, it- it can wait, can't it?"

"She's been worried about you."

"I know, but—" Sara looked to be struggling for something to say for several minutes. "Dad, I want to move back in with you."

"_What?_" Of all the explanations, this was the last he'd have expected.

"Or back to Starling, if you don't want me here."

"It's not that. I'd love for you to move in, of course. Just, why now?"

Sara shoved her hands in her pockets. He was sure she was trying to keep herself from nervously fidgeting. "Well, you're here and Laurel's gonna be here, too. I- I like it better here. Mom, she worries too much and she's just been..._stifling_ me. I can't take it anymore. I don't want to."

"Alright, alright," he assured her, coming forward to tuck some of her hair behind her ear and get a better look at her face. She was being totally genuine, even as he thought there was clearly something she wasn't saying. "You've always been welcome here, baby, you know that."

She took a great, shuddering breath and seemed to calm down. "Thanks, daddy. I'll go unpack."

"Alright. I'll call your mother tomorrow."

"Okay!" Sara was already running out of the front room towards the guest bedroom. Which was now her room. One of his daughters was coming back to live with him full-time. Happy as that thought made him, he looked back out the door Laurel had disappeared through. What were her plans? Did she have somewhere? Something else to try and get out of her sister.

He rubbed at his back where her boot had made contact. It wouldn't surprise him if a bruise formed by tonight. She'd lashed out at him when he'd approached. Had she thought he would attack her? And how had she reacted so quickly and severely, like she was prepared for that kind of attack at a moment's notice?

Every time one of his girls came home, he was left with more questions than answers. But finding answers to questions had always been what he did best. Maybe it was time to get back to it.

Oliver took his time getting to the base that night. For one thing, he'd needed to speak with Tommy before his old friend had left the house.

"I am sorry about lying," he'd told him.

Tommy had glanced at him. "But you don't regret that you did it."

Oliver had said nothing. He didn't regret it. Now that Tommy knew, it made him along with his family complicit in the things he had done as the Hood, both good and bad.

"What are you going to do now?" He'd asked instead.

"I don't know. There's a whole company dad left behind. Have to see if there's anything I need to do about that. I guess I'll need some time off managing the club."

"Right." Oliver had nearly forgotten about the recently opened Verdant in all the upheaval. "Take whatever time you need."

"Okay." Tommy had turned for the door. "For the record, I'm glad you're not dead. And uh, thank you for getting Laurel back."

"No thanks necessary." Even if he hadn't made the deal that had put Laurel there, Oliver would always feel some measure of responsibility. And even without that, he couldn't have left her there regardless. The minute he had learned the truth, his thoughts had been occupied with it and nothing else.

"I was going to ask her out," Tommy had abruptly stated. "All those years ago. The next time I saw her, I told myself."

"Oh."

"Yeah, well, after Hong Kong and you being—" Tommy had huffed a laugh. "—'dead'. I figured it was time for us all to move on. But her mom decided to turn psycho, so…"

A long silence had hung in the air between them. Oliver had felt Diggle's eyes on him.

"It's for the best." Tommy had clapped him on the shoulder. "After everything, it really is just Ollie and Laurel, huh?"

"I think that's about the last thing on her mind right now. I'm just going to try and do my best by her as a friend, whatever she needs."

Tommy had swallowed once and nodded. "Yeah. Well, guess I'll see you both around." He'd left right after.

Oliver's mind remained on that conversation through unpacking his things in his room, checking on the guest room Raisa had prepared and letting Digg drive them over to the club. He'd asked to go with no real reasoning for why; being in the house with his mother and Walter now with all they knew about each other out in the open didn't sit right with him. He also wanted to be in the Glades, a way of reassuring himself that Malcolm's plan hadn't and would never come to fruition.

"So what's the plan now?" His friend and bodyguard asked as they walked into the empty club. He and Tommy had closed it for the few days they'd been planning to be gone for the trip.

"What do you mean?"

Diggle gestured to the door near the back only the two of them had the code for. "I mean, what's going to happen with the mission?"

Oliver paused. What did happen? He hadn't been expecting to learn the secrets of the Dark Archer and the real reason for everything that had gone wrong in the city for the last five years when he'd gotten on that plane. But they had.

"The mission was the Undertaking, and the Undertaking has been stopped."

"Thought the mission was the list."

"So did I. But my father was trying to stop Malcolm, not this." He looked down at the book in his hands.

"So what, all those billionaires and guns for hire and all the rest of them get to keep doing what they've been doing? They get a free pass?" Asked Digg.

"No. But this list is...it would take my whole life to get through it. Possibly longer."

"That's the thing about progress, Oliver. It's not a one and done thing." Diggle was disappointed in him, and he hated that feeling. Hated, too, that Diggle hardly ever tried to see things from his point of view.

"Well things are kind of busy in my life at the moment. My family, my friends—"

"Laurel?"

"Yes. They all know my secret now, John. How can I expect them to be okay with me going out there and risking my life every night?" Would Carly and AJ be happy knowing if their situations were reversed?

"What you have to ask yourself is if you're okay not going out there when you know how much this city needs you, Oliver," said Diggle, steady and uncompromising as always. He turned back to the door. "Let me know when you've thought about that."

Oliver sighed as his friend left the club. He didn't know if it was that easy. Yes, he cared about the city getting better, but for him to try and tackle the systemic problems Malcolm and his cohorts had left in their wake...he was just one man.

He punched in the code and descended into the base. Movement in the corner of his eyes had him reaching for the knife in his boot until his mind caught up and recognized the woman turning in her chair to face him.

"Laurel."

"Hey."

She'd let her hair down for the first time since they'd found her in Nanda Parbat. It brought her closer to the image he'd carried around with him for half a decade, but there was something that lingered in her eyes and the corners of her mouth that spoke of the burdens she carried. He wondered if his family and friends had thought the same about him.

Oliver looked around. "How did you…?"

"How did I know this was your secret base or how did I get in?" When he just nodded, she answered, "Thea told me about the club you and Tommy were running upstairs, which made sense as a front for a covert operation out of the Glades."

Oliver grimaced. He didn't begrudge Thea accidentally giving away his secrets; she had talked with Laurel for hours on that plane, likely doing a better job bridging the divide than any of them would have been able to. It ended up being a stroke of luck that she'd stowed away after all.

When he'd gone up the aisle to check on them and give Laurel the chance to change out of the League's uniform, his sister had fallen asleep on Laurel's shoulder, and that imagery alone had given him hope that maybe things really could go back to normal for all of them.

Which was why he winced when Laurel added, "As to how I got in, I'm a professional assassin, so."

"Laurel, you're not—"

"Yes, I am, Ollie. It's what I've been for the last three years. I'm not sure I know how to be anything else." She looked down. "I attacked my own father."

Oliver crossed the room. "What happened?"

She shrugged, and he could see how helpless it was. "He got upset because I can't tell him anything. So he got up close and I... reacted. It's how I've been trained to be, and I can't just switch it off."

"I know."

She met his eyes. "Yeah, I guess you would."

There was silence as they each contemplated the things the other had gone through, how it had shaped them — perhaps irrevocably — into the people they were today.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"You already said that."

"That was for, well, thinking I was dying," he said. "But there is so much more I've done wrong by you."

"You've got company," she remarked. "And you're not the worst offender."

Oliver shook his head. He was not going to take the easy out. "But what I did was, I invalidated you. I cared more about what I wanted than what you needed in a partner, and I was too selfish to admit that to both of us."

Laurel stood, never breaking eye contact. "Well, thank you. And I can see how much you've changed. The boy who didn't care about my feelings never would've flown to the Himalayas to challenge a near-immortal monster for my freedom."

It was strange. Almost anyone who compared the him that had returned from the island to what he'd been before did so unfavorably. Himself included, often enough. Yet Laurel saw something worth more than he'd been before. She saw something good.

Maybe because she had to, to see something good in herself.

"If I'd been better, before…"

"Please don't try to take responsibility for anyone else's wrongs. I've placed the blame exactly where it belongs, and that's my right," she told him, a stubborn line to her shoulders that, he was happy to note, was not League-trained at all; that had always been a part of her. She must have noticed the twitch of his lips, for she tilted her head. "Was there something funny about that?"

"No, not really," he replied. "It's just, I've missed you. The real you." He'd seen her in his dreams and hallucinations over the years, but nothing could compare to the whole of her. That probably wasn't welcome territory at the moment, so instead he asked, "What brought you down here, anyway?"

"Curiosity," she told him, and he nodded. "And I wanted to know if you were still looking for teammates."

That had him looking up in surprise. "What?"

She took a folded piece of paper out of the pocket of her leather jacket. It took Oliver a second to recognize it as one of the Help Wanted posters Tommy had pinned up outside the club. "You want to work at a nightclub? What about law school?"

She shrugged. "Considering the amount of laws I've broken the last three years, I don't think it's the best career path for me anymore."

"Right," he agreed, trying his best not to show the regret he was feeling. Laurel had wanted so badly to help people with the law. To see that she felt herself incapable or unworthy of that anymore cut at something deep inside him. He knew she didn't blame him for this, but a part of him couldn't help wondering about what could have been.

"Did the League have bartending lessons?" He asked, trying to lighten things. He thought he saw the hints of that old wry fondness she'd often regarded him with. Oliver licked his lips, the fingers of his right hand curling and uncurling.

"They taught me how to make and administer poisons. And their antidotes," she added helpfully. "But it says you need a bouncer."

"Uh…" He couldn't help it. As a frequent attendee of clubs in the past, he had a very clear picture in his head of what a bouncer looked like: Diggle. It was wrong. He didn't need to see her frown to know that. "Sorry, I guess I just — you want to be in charge of a line of rowdy, possibly already drunk people and deal with security problems or break up fights? After what happened at your father's?"

"I have to know that I'm the one in control," she said. "I've been given these skills and a purpose to fight, Oliver. And to kill. That's something I can never take back. But maybe, by putting those skills towards keeping others safe, trying to help out, I could...I could use it for real good."

It had come out as almost a question, and he could see the desperation in her eyes. A need that reached down to his core and found an echoing cry.

He didn't have to think about it anymore. If they could take the weapons that their bodies had been forged into and reshape them, be the shield or sword that others needed, then all that pain and that damage might have been worth it.

For a moment, he let himself imagine if Laurel had asked him what he'd initially thought before she'd produced the Help Wanted poster. If it were more than just him out there fighting against the institutions poisoning their city, if they could work as a team...but they weren't a team. He'd betrayed that trust years ago, and it would take time to get that back even if he had fought for her freedom. And it would have to be something Laurel wanted, too.

For now, he could answer this request. "Consider yourself hired."

She smiled. Not a full one, just the lips, but it seemed to brighten the whole base. After a moment, she ducked her head, as if afraid to let him or anyone see it.

"I hate to bring up money right away, but I stopped at the bank before coming here. I still have my account, but it's not in the best shape. I'm not sure what I can really afford on my own."

"There's a room for you at the house, if you need it," he reminded her. He was sure if Quentin Lance had been seriously hurt, Laurel wouldn't be here right now, but he also doubted she felt very welcome in her father's home.

"At least for now. Your family's going through a lot. You shouldn't have to worry about anyone else," she said. "I just don't have enough for rent right now."

"Which isn't your fault. Stay with us as long as you need to. Till you can get back on your feet. We'll find you something." For the meantime, he offered his arm. "Come on, let's go home."

"I don't know if I'm ready to call Starling that again, Ollie," Laurel admitted. But after a brief hesitation, she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow.

"Take as long as you need," he repeated. Whatever Laurel needed, he would give it to her. Lord knew she deserved it after they had all failed her in their own ways.

His father's mission was over. This was his mission now, to protect his city and his loved ones. To right his own wrongs.

Laurel stood at the large window of her second-story room, watching the comings and goings of some of the staff below. The house was surrounded on three sides by expansive grounds leading to trees; not a secure position for them at all.

She hated that these were the things that came immediately to mind. That the bed, which years ago had seemed a luxury to her, now felt too soft, too inviting. It all just didn't feel real.

How could she be in this place of peace and acceptance, where people openly showed care for each other, where they used her _name?_ It was like something out of her dreams from the early nights of her time in Nanda Parbat. It was overwhelming. Oliver most of all.

She knew how life could change a person. She was the proof of that firsthand, and it scared her. Did he really care for her or just the woman he hoped she still could be? And was there anything left of the man he'd been, flawed as he was yet nevertheless her first love? Or were they both strangers trying to fit into a life that wasn't theirs anymore?

Sara seemed just as ill-suited to her life since returning home. Laurel didn't know much; they hadn't really spoken on the ride over to their father's, just a question about how he had been and the answer that he had lost his job — that hurt, knowing she should have been there, should have helped him see his way through his anger and grief better. How much worse it would get if he knew all the things she'd done.

Laurel didn't know if she would see Sara again. Would she just go back to Dinah? It would be easier if she did, easier for Laurel to just keep hating them both. Because the longer that she looked at Sara's thin, fragile form, the harder it became to hold onto that hate.

As angry as she wanted to be at her younger sister, as much as she knew it was her very right, she could see Sara hadn't escaped from her time as a castaway unscathed. Laurel remembered her mother's excuses, that Sara had been assaulted by men. It turned her stomach when she allowed herself to think about it. Had she gotten help? Did she have someone to talk to about any of it?

Laurel also knew, however, she was not prepared to be that person. Not in this moment and perhaps not ever. The betrayal was still raw, even after all these years. Seeing everyone from her old life again had dragged all of those memories and feelings back up to the surface. It was clouding her thinking and her judgement.

It was why Laurel had asked for work that kept her within earshot of Oliver's mission. Apart from needing an income, she felt it might best ground her in this daydream her life had suddenly turned into. Keeping her mind and reflexes sharp in case her fortunes turned again.

She couldn't help smirking to herself. It was Nyssa's voice she thought of saying those words. It brought an ache to her chest, wondering where her friend was and if she'd ever forgive her. She'd done what she'd thought best at the time, but now she wasn't sure.

Laurel hadn't really known the truth of what Malcolm Merlyn was capable of until Mrs. Queen had explained in halting, haunting detail. To know he was now in charge of the League chilled her bones. Ra's had been a terror to behold, but had he merely been replaced with a worse evil?

The others wouldn't want her to worry about that. They believed Malcolm to be many miles away and no longer a concern of theirs. They didn't know how far the League reached. They just wanted her to be happy and free. A task she wasn't sure she was up to.

A soft knock at her door had her turning sharply on her heels, moving into a defensive posture.

Oliver's head poked inside. "Hey. Sorry, I just wanted to let you know dinner's just about on the table. Raisa says it's all your favorites."

"Oh." Laurel straightened back up. She tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear to avoid looking at him straight on. "Sorry."

"It's okay," he assured her. "Was that, um, The Beatles you were humming? I thought I heard a little bit, wasn't trying to eavesdrop," he added when she blinked at him.

"Yeah, I, um, got into the habit, I guess. Didn't realize I was doing it." She came around the bed and followed him out into the hall. "It might've been The Beatles. They had a song called 'Blackbird'."

She didn't miss the long look he gave her. "Yeah? I remembered the tune, not so much what it's about."

Laurel shrugged. "It's just a guy singing. You know, about broken wings and learning to fly again. To be free."

"And how does it end?"

They both paused at the top of the stairs. Laurel turned and faced him fully.

"I don't know."


End file.
